Grand Theft Auto: A MOB Story
by Zane Longsharks
Summary: Meet Anfernee Ant Lawrence. The M.O.B's newest and rather reluctant recruit. This is the tale of how he becomes their most valuable OG and how he leads the one time small gang of disorganized hoodlums into being one of the superpowers on Liberty's mean street. Along the way he only has to put up with low down cops, two bit hustlers, and a host of rival gangs with a grudge to settle
1. To Harass and Control

"Hey money eyes on the ball!" The teenager sang out as he clutched the basketball tightly in both hands for a second before dodging around the other who was trying to guard him. He then passed the ball to another boy who caught it expertly. This boy wasted no time on a reply. He at once sprinted forward dribbling the ball. An older man tried to stop him but the youth was far too quick, he circled around the older opponent and leapt forward; releasing the ball in the apex of his jump. It soared high above; almost gleaming in the early morning sunlight for a second before whistling through the rusted rim in a perfect score.

"Yah!" The scorer yelled punching a fist into the air.

"That's my boy right there." His partner gloated. "That's right. Twenty five to eighteen. We own this shit."

He jogged up to his friend and offered his fist and the other bumped it with a fist of his own. They stood for a second together sweaty, breathing hard, and triumphant until the other pair arrived.

"Lucky bitch." The older man said surly.

"Yah you punks got the luck of the motherfucking Irish or some shit." His younger companion agreed with a nod.

The two winners merely beamed at their adversaries.

"Haters going to hate." The one who had made the victorious shot said in a singsong voice. The other merely laughed and went to retrieve the basketball from where it had fallen. At the foot of the rusted chain link fence which enclosed the whole court except for an open archway.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever nigga." The older man said. "Ya'll young punks know that none of you could test me on a good day." Standing at almost six feet three the man towered head and shoulders over all his younger companions. He was exceedingly lanky, one could say almost unhealthily thin. The white tanktop he wore hung loosely on his frame. Baggy stonewashed blue jeans and white Hinterland boots completed his apparel. Diamond stud earrings and a gold pinky ring gave the illusion of wealth. He had mahogany brown skin and his black hair was plaited in cornrows. He also sported an untidily groomed goatee and a slight five o clock shadow. His thick black eyebrows seemed perpetually snarled into a frown and his dark brown eyes always seem to be glaring, he exuded an air of permanent vexation. As if though the world itself was his enemy. The letter MOB was tattooed in block letters across his left knuckles which were scarred and a bit disfigured as if though they had been broken more than once. "4" and "LIFE" was tattooed on his right knuckles.

"Every time we play ball it seems to be your bad day." The first boy called jokingly as he returned to the little group, the basketball tucked in the crook of his left arm. He was also the shortest of the lot and was quite chubby. His face still had the boyish appearance of prepubescent and he showed only the faintest mustache, chain hair was nonexistent. He wore his hair in a skin fade haircut. His skin was a couple shades darker than his older companion leaning more towards dusky than brown. Despite this his eyes were hazel. His black t shirt bore the prolaps logo, so did his black beanie. He also wore blue khakis and black Hi-tops. A Cuban gold chain gleamed around his neck, and a matching bracelet around his right wrist. On his left he wore a gold Crowex. On both hands he sported pairs of gold rings, both on the pinky and on the middle finger. _MOB 4 life _was also tattooed on him. In his case it was down the length of his right forearm and it was in stylized script.

"Fuck you." The older one growled taking an aggressive step forward.

"Don't be perpetrating just cause you got zero skills." His companion retorted.

"Hey hey tone it down homies." Said the older man's ball partner, he stepped between them holding up his hands in a placating gesture. Like the richly clad youth he too was of a darker complexion but he stood almost a head taller. Thicker lips, wider spaced eyes, and a heavy built further proclaimed his African American ethnicity. His black hair was cut close to the scalp in a buzz cut and on his chin was a neatly lined up sash. He was bare-chested revealing nicely sculpted pecs and a six pack. Several different Music notes were tattooed in a rising cloud on the left side of his chest. Right below that tattoo was a puckered scar as if from a knife wound. Another tattoo of _MOB _across a Patriot was on his muscular right bicep. His final tattoo was across the width of his stomach. It simply said the word _Jazzy _in stylized script. He wore only a pair of casual blue jeans along with white mid-top sneakers. His jeans were belted below the waist revealing a fair portion of his plaid boxers.

"Yah men," Said the last of the assembly with a frown. He was the boy who had made the final shot. "Chill the fuck out." He was the tallest of the youths after the man with cornrows. His skin too was brown rather than black, though it was still darker than the taller man's. His short cropped hair sported stylized waves. He was also completely clean-shaven. The youth was built on the brawny side; his arms thick with corded muscles. He looked from one of his companion to the other with solemn brown eyes so dark they could pass for black. He was dressed in a black tanktop, blue and white _**Penetrators**_ ball short, and white hi-top Eris sneaks. He also wore a pair of plain dog tags on a metal ball chain.

Just then there was a screeching of tires and a loud whoop of sirens.

"Aww shit!" The older man swore immediately spinning around to face the entrance to the court. His companions followed suit and sure enough a blue and white vehicle with flashing red headlights blocked the archway.

All the inhabitants of the Firefly Housing Projects learned to avoid a police car early enough in life, but when that wasn't possible they mostly tended to freeze up and bear frosty expressions. Like the four young men were doing now.

"Lets get the fuck out of here." Said the richly dressed youth in an undertone as both the passenger and driver's door opened and two officers stepped out slamming the doors in unison behind them.

"No," The oldest said with a frown. "Its too late now. Fucking guido bitch won't think twice about shooting us in the back. You know how he's like."

The bare-chested boy merely scowled but the boy with the dog tag chain swallowed nervously. He tried his best not to show any fear, knowing the derision his friends would bear for him if he did. The two officers approached steadily, one held his nine mm glock in his hand and walked a little behind his partner, the other whirled a nightstick idly in his hand. He was the paler of the two, as well as the elder. His black hair was jelled down and shone wetly. He walked upright and stiff. The officer was an imposing figure in his starched blue uniform. Compared to him his lanky Latino partner was slight and unimpressive even when holding a gun.

"Good morning boys," He said in a patronizing voice. "Up early are we."

"You know us officer Galliano," The man with the corn rows replied in a voice just as patronizing. "Always up for an early morning exercise."

"We'll just see about that." The officer replied nodding his head. "On the ground all of you. Keep your hands in sight if you don't want to get shot. My partner and I value our safety very highly."

With a lot of grumbling and cursing the four young men complied. Laying themselves spread eagle on the floor and keeping their hands viewable at their sides.

"Name and age?" The officer asked lazily as he stepped to the side of the corn rowed man.

"You know our fucking names you fucking guido prick. You're out here harassing us every chance you get aren't you?" The man snarled in reply. He would have said more but his words at once changed into a gurgle gasp of pain as the officer's nightstick connected solidly with his lower back.

"Watch your mouth punk." The officer said coldly. "Or you might find yourself taking a little trip down to Algonquin to take up permanent residence. Name and age."

"Tyrone Masters. Twenty four." The man gasped out still in severe pain. Officer Galliano smiled nastily and moved on to the next boy in the lineup. The bare-chested lad with the darkest skin.

"And you?"

"Leslie Pitters. Seventeen." The boy replied in a gruff voice. The officer moved on without a comment to the next boy in the lineup, the richly clad youth.

"Name and age?" He asked. There was no reply. At once he lashed out, bringing his nightstick down upon the back of the boy's shoulders. The boy gasped but still didn't reply. "Always thinking you tough huh Loc?" The officer said with a slight trace of amusement. "I'll fix that." He at once began laying into the boy with his nightstick. Beating down on his back unmercifully. It only took three blows for the youth to curl into fetal position, unable to deal with the pain. Officer Galliano showed no signs of stopping however; he continued wailing down upon the boy with all he had. Tyrone yelled furiously and made to get up but the sight of the scowl on the face of Galliano's partner and the steady way he held the gun left little doubt about what would happen if he did. The people that were up and about at the early hour, mostly commuters that were trying to beat early morning traffic to work, merely gave the scene a passing glance before hurrying on their way. The people of the Firefly Projects were used to such spectacles. Such brutalities were part of the daily life of Liberty City, especially there in the heart of the ghetto.

"Stop!" The boy with the dog tag cried out. "His name is Jared Bryce! 16! Just stop it!"

"I didn't ask you to talk muffin." The officer sneered. He was breathing rather heavily but he didn't let that stop him from stepping forward and giving the transgressing boy a hard boot to the stomach. The youth clenched his midsection, unable to talk from the raging agony. "But since you you're so eager what's your name and age? Be quick about it now."

"Anfernee Lawrence. Seventeen." He finally managed to croak out.

"Good," Galliano said in his patronizing tone. "See was that so hard?" He strutted out towards his partner and sheathed his nightstick before placing a hand casually on his own gun.

"Now gentlemen. There was a murder not two blocks from here just ten to twelve minutes ago. What can you tell me about that?"

None of the boys made any type of reply. Their simmering anger was almost a tangible heat but Officer Galliano was immune.

"Victim was a good friend of mines. Doesn't take no rocket scientist to figure out that the murderer came from here." The officer continued on. "Then I cruise over and find four young punks out so early. Coincidence? I think not. Which one of you done it?"

There was still no reply. Galliano marched forward and nudged Leslie with his boot.

"Was it you Jazzy?" The officer asked politely.

"No." The youth replied. The police man casually moved his boot to the boy's head and pressed down with strength, forcing the youth's face to the hot concrete.

"No what?"

"No sir." Jazzy replied in a somewhat muffled voice.

Officer Galliano moved on to Tyrone and lightly nudged the man with a boot.

"What about you Bamz?" The policeman said Tyrone's street name in a mocking tone. "This seems more your line."

"No." Bamz replied curtly. His fists were clenched so tightly that they hurt. It was taking him every bit of willpower he had not to lash out and stomp the cocky oily haired Italian bastard of a policeman into a little greasy spot on the pavement.

"I know you don't have the balls or the brains Loc." Galliano called out sneeringly to Jared who was still curled up in severe pain. "So that just leaves you Ant." The officer said walking forward and looking dominatingly down at the last boy. Ant shivered but made no reply. "Hmmm. Are you my murderer? I doubt that." He absentmindedly gave Ant another kick causing the boy to suck in a pain filled breath once more.

"I know none of you punks didn't do it." Galliano said walking away. "None of you would have the balls to do in Ricoray. But I swear to you that all four of you will go up for this if you don't have me the name of who done it by tomorrow morning. I'll be in touch." Galliano's partner finally holstered his weapon and departed as well. The boys waited until they heard the sounding of an engine and the screech of tires.

"Before I die I'll bone that fucker's wife and daughter in front of him then slit his motherfucking throat." Bamz grated raising to his feet and dusting off his clothes as best as he could. He quickly made his way to Loc and gingerly pulled the younger man to his feet. Jazzy and Ant stood as well, both brushing themselves off. If the look on Jazzy face could kill Galliano would have just been struck by a faithful bolt of lightning. By comparison Ant expression was mere pain and bewilderment.

"You good dawg?" Ant asked Loc.

"I'm good." Loc groaned out. "I'm a kill that jumped up motherfucker. I swear it. I'm a fucking kill him!"

"Chill cuz." Jazzy said in a placating manner. "Punk ass pig is doubly protected. Fucking PD and the fucking Messinas."

"I don't give a fuck." Loc snarled clenching his fist tightly and spitting on the ground. "I'm a rinse my fucking gat in his motherfucking face! Best believe that. We done put up with far too much bullshit from him for far too long." He began pacing back and forth his jaw working angrily. "We ain't no punk ass _**Eses**_ or motherfucking_** Pretenders**_ to be bending over for any fucking pig! We the goddamn MOB, we best start acting like it!"

It was discussion like this that always made Ant uncomfortable. He loved each of the men here like brothers and he had known all of them with the exception of Bamz since diaper days. But he was not a part of their gang and had no intentions to be. He kept quiet however, knowing how bad it would sound if he proclaimed that at that particular moment. With the temper Loc was in doing so might even lead to a confrontation.

"He has it coming homie." Bamz said nodding his head. "Best believe that. But we got to be smart about it. If we off him now they'll all know it was us and if the heat doesn't do us in the guidos certainly will. We'll catch him slipping though, and when we do I'm a give him the _**rough farewell**_."

Jazzy nodded at that and held his knuckles out to Bamz who bumped it with his own. Loc continued to cuss up a storm with Bamz and Jazzy still trying to calm him down. Ant however had his back turned to him. He was looking out at the environment with a look of consternation on his face. The street outside the basketball court was now filled with people who were in a permanent state of hurry. Beyond them was the compound which was filled with crackheads and dope fiends too strung out to care where they rested their heads. There were also clusters of gaudily dressed men who stood in groups conversing and drinking malt liquor or smoking blunts. Women in scanty clothing circled those men eyeing them like hungry sharks, _their_ profession was all too clear. The Firefly Projects loomed above them all just a little further on. The ten behemoth towers were not overly large but clustered together as they were they certainly were dominating. In the early morning sunlight their dilapidated conditions were more obvious than ever. The Firefly Housing Project held the reputation as the worst part of America's worst city, it was a well deserved reputation in Ant's opinion. But hey, it was still home; had been home for eleven years since he and his mother moved here from Venturas.

"Men fuck that police cracker." Jazzy finally said. "He ain't fucking off my day. Still got shits that need be done. Mo time homies." He rapped knuckles with all his friends before walking away. Bamz followed suit, muttering about needing to pick something up and how they would all rendezvous at the party tonight. This left just Ant and Loc.

"Yo Ant what you got shaking?" Loc asked gingerly touching a tender spot on his jaw.

"I was thinking about being early to school for a change." Ant replied with a chuckle.

"Aight, lets do that then." Loc laughed. The two of them departed the court and headed North through the Projects ground. The Clint Adams Institute of Learning was located on Deadwood Street which was _literally_ right beside the Firefly Projects Compound but Ant was late on an almost daily basis and Loc could count the amount of time he had actually attended in the past month on one hand.

"So you coming to Angel's party to night right cuz?" Loc asked as they walked.

"Nah men," Ant said shaking his head ruefully.

"Why the fuck not?" His companion demanded forcefully. "Nigga you can't miss this shit. The bitches going be up in there like sour on lime! You know Angel's girls fine as a motherfucker. She said even her cousin Valeria from Dukes will be up in the spot tonight. I heard that bitch can do you somewhat fierce using just her throat. I'm looking to get my freak on baby." Loc cackled and rub his hands together in anticipation at the upcoming nightly festivities. Ant merely scowled and made no reply. His friend gave him a sideway look.

"Why the fuck ain't you coming?"

Ant paused for a long moment but finally breathed out deep and said.

"Ain't got no cash. Ain't got no clothes."

"Aww shit nigga you know you can come shopping with me later." Loc said a bit gently. This had always been a point of consternation. "Don't even watch it."

"For real dawg?" Ant asked barely masking his excitement. Normally he refused Loc on such offerings. Both out of his own stubborn pride and out of fear of the brutal consequences should his mother find out what he had done. But he desperately wanted in on this party. It was on the tongue of everyone at school and more importantly it was a chance at Valeria.

"Yah men, you got to make an appearance." Loc said with a grin. Just then a Hispanic man stumbled into the path of the two. He was emaciated, dressed in rags, and had wide bloodshot eyes. The smell that rose from him was enough to make Ant gagged.

"Hey Baby Loc," He slurred. "What you got? What you got?"

'Let me see some money then we can talk about that." Loc snapped, blatantly holding a hand to his nose. The man shuffled uncomfortably from one foot to the next.

"Ain't got no money but I do got_"

He didn't get a chance to finish because Loc lunged forward and socked him right in the mouth a solid left. The man fell to the ground with a grunt.

"Then stop wasting my time bitch." Loc spat on him and continued forward. After giving the moaning SPANK addict a sympathizing look Ant followed through.

"Yeah homie as I was saying for real." The younger youth continued as if though the exchange hadn't occurred. "I'm a spot you. You've got to be there men."

"Thaks g." Ant said sincerely.

"You know money wouldn't be a problem if you started rolling with us for real." Loc said after a minute of silent walking. Ant sighed but made no reply, he knew 'us' meant the MOB's.

"I already told you no." Ant replied. "That ain't my path."

"College and lawyering is huh?" Loc laughed.

"Yes." Ant replied curtly.

"You'll come around." Loc chuckled. "Just wait and see."

Ant made no reply. He had watched _Mobland_ and _American Hoodlums_, he knew what was the end result of gangbanging. If there was one thing he was certain about it was that he would not be joining the statistics. That was a promise.

**((Okay that was the first chapter. If anyone read it I would love an opinion or two on how it is going so far. Next up will be Valeria's party and it will definitely be one our boys will remember for a long time. *wink wink * Now I know that I referred to characters by a lot of different names in the character introduction so just to avoid any confusion our four main characters are: **

**Tyrone 'Bamz' Masters**

**Leslie 'Jazzy' Pitters **

**Jared 'Baby Loc' Bryce **

**Anfernee 'Ant' Lawrence **

**From here on out their street names is what will be used to refer for them though other people may call them otherwise. Now unto the things that has been bolded throughout the story, these are things that I think need clearing up whether they be parodies or street lingo. **

**Penetrators-Liberty City professional basketball team, parody of the New York Knicks. **

**Eses & Pretenders- Disrespectful term for rival gangs namely the Spanish Lords and North Holland Hustlers respectively. **

**Rough Farewell- Parody of Sin City the Hard Goodbye. **

**Okay I think that's all for now. Thank you for reading. :) ))**


	2. Protecting Turf

"Damn cuz," Ant whistled. "Where you get that bad boy?" He stopped walking and stared at the beautiful piece of machinery parked before them. It was a beautiful Classique 347 Stallion. The muscle car was a glossy blue with a black stripe running its length. The side skirts were also black as were the fog lights. It sat on chrome rims which sparkled in the early morning sunlight.

"You know how I do." Loc cackled running a hand over the hood as he made his way to the driver's door. Ant shook his head in weary amusement.

"When you going to stop stealing shit men?" He asked wryly as Loc opened the door and slid in.

"Maybe when I'm dead." The younger gangster replied in a serious voice when he had opened the passenger's door for his companion. Ant laughed and got into the vehicle as well. Loc started it and the radio immediately boomed to live. Not surprisingly it was tuned to the Beat 102.7 which was both boys' favorite radio station.

_I know you've heard it once. I know you've heard it a thousand times! But this track just never gets tired men! Going real old school on this one by special request! Flashing Lights by Kanye West! _

"DJ Mcee," Ant said excitedly. "My boy! He always boom all the good shit." Ant absentmindedly snuggled back into the leather seat as the music rolled out from the radio in a rising crescendo. Loc shifted the gear and reversed. The little nigga was barely old enough to drive and yet he had a better car than the average working man was ever likely to own in his entire lifetime. Odds are that within a month he would have another one too. It was a fool who had said that crime didn't pay.

"I've been dying to hit up school in this bitch since I got it." Loc said with an ear to ear grin. "Just think about the pussy I'm a be getting in this right here."

"Yeah motherfucker you need the cheat code to snag pussy alright." Ant laughed.

"Men fuck you." Loc snapped back in reply as they cruised down the street.

Loc had for obvious reason opted to take the longer road to school but Ant saw no reason to complain. He stared out at the scenery flashing past them as they drove. Concrete, grime, and decadent corruption Ant thought as he watched a dealer he recognized from the projects openly sling at the base of a stop sign. That was Liberty City alright. They pulled up to a stop behind an orange Presidente. Ant checked the dashboard clock and saw that it was seven thirty. Classes called in eight.

"Men I told you the Penetrators were going to fucking wack out." Loc said as the traffic light changed the green and the Presidente moved off. Loc followed suit. "Did you catch the game yesterday? Damn Carcer City Unicorns wiped the floor with their asses. Ninety to fifty six? Fucking pathetic is what it is."

"Punk ass Unicorns got lucky," Ant retorted. "Tony Carmel was off with a busted ankle and David Byron was injured in the previous game and still wasn't at his best."

"Carmel and Byron are aight but I don't think they would have made much difference." Loc chortled. "That's the problem. Goddamn Penetrators only got two good players. The Unicorns got a whole team. Miller, Scott, Hancok."

"Doesn't matter if they are all good." Ant argued. "Motherfuckers can't work together for shit. They all greedy. They'll see where that gets them at the playoffs." Loc snorted but didn't reply. He swung swinging down Clarence Street. Then he slowed the vehicle even some more to take in the compliments from a couple of ladies that were sitting at a little café.

"Damn baby I want to go for a ride in that bad boy right there."

"Whoa boy I think I'm a marry you."

"You can take me for a drive anytime!"

The young ganster grinned at them then he stomped down on the gas, rapidly propelling the car forward with a roar of noise from the exhaust. Ant fought to steady himself as Loc burnt around a curve and almost rear ended a banged up Patriot, only just managing to hit the breaks in time.

"I swear men bitches gonna be the death of you." Ant said despairingly. Loc took a handoff the wheel to give his friend the finger. Then with a twist of the wheel Loc dodged around the Patriot and sped forward only to enter another queue of vehicles waiting on the traffic light. Loc cursed and glared out his window. He had a clear unhindered view down a side alley which was between a Cluckin Bell and a Nine Eleven. What he saw made him blink twice in surprise.

"Ahhh hell naw." Loc snarled. "Motherfuckers ain't real."

Ant leaned over to see the cause of his companion's anger. It took him a few seconds to locking around before his eyes locked on the alley. From there position he could see three Latino men near to the end of the alley. They were dressed differently but the only similarity was the yellow and black motif. One of them appeared to be spraying something onto the wall of the Seven Eleven that Ant and Loc couldn't see from their position. They didn't need to see it to know what it was however. It would be a crown or a devil fork, the mark of the Spanish Lords.

"Fucking Eses!" Loc exploded. "Tagging up in the heart of our hood. These punk ass niggas be getting bolder by the fucking day! Come on we gonna put them in their place."

Loc pulled out of the line and brought the car to a stop at the side of the road a few feet beyond the alley mouth so that they weren't spotted. Ant heart fluttered.

"You mean you going to kill them?" He kind of stammered out. Loc gave him a strange look and reached behind his seat.

"_We_," The younger gangster replied putting emphasis on the word. "Are going to teach them to be fucking around over here. Relax fool we ain't gonna kill them if we can help it. We just going to send their ass packing back Bohan where they fucking belong."

Loc finally found what he was looking for and straightened up. Ant saw that it was a short metal bat. Before Ant could make a reply Loc had thrown open the door and was running down the street to the alley. Ant cursed and punched the dashboard but knew that he didn't have a choice. He threw open his own door and followed with all the speed he could muster. He was only a few feet behind his younger companion when they turned into the alley.

"MOTHERFUCKERS THINK YOU FUNNY COMING OVER HERE DISRESPECTING THE BLOCK?" Loc bellowed as he charged into the three surprised men without missing a beat. The three Spanish Lords were stunned into motionlessness. It was a big mistake. Loc fell upon them like a twister upon a trailer home. The youngster's first swing connected solidly with the head of the closest rival who also happened to be the one who had been doing the tagging. It carried behind it all the force of Loc's stout body as well as his running momentum and his murderous intent. The blow landed with a nasty crack and the Spanish Lord went flying into the side of the building where his head slammed against it, he slid down the wall and crumpled boneless to the ground leaving a smear of blood on the building. Ant's blood went cold. The man's companions let out cries of rage and anguish. The surprise of Loc's attack was passed.

They came with murderous intent, driven to frenzy by the attack of their friend. Loc leapt back to clear some room and swung the bat in another deadly arc aimed at the head of the second thug. This one was about Loc's height and appeared to be his age too. He wore a white tanktop under a yellow and purple Dribblers jacket; a yellow bandanna was wrapped around his forehead and another one around his right wrist. Khakis and white Binco Hi-tops completed the attire. The Spanish Lord gangster ducked under Loc's swing and tackled him around the waist. He then bodily hoisted Loc off the ground in a show of great strength and slammed him into the side of the Cluckin Bell. Loc struggled to wield his bat but this close up it was useless. The Latino gave him a solid right to the side of the face which made him stagger. It was obvious the Spanish Lord had been a scrap or two before. Ant charged forward to join the fray. He might not have intentions to become a murderer but he wasn't about to let the Spanish Lords turn his boy into another statistic.

He was intercepted by the other gangbanger. An older Hispanic male. This one was squat and rather fat, he wore a black hoody partway zipped up over a white shirt. He also wore baggy blue jeans and white Hinterland boots. A LS Saints gold chain glimmered around his neck.

"Puta pendejo!" The man shouted; spittle flying from his mouth. He came in with a strong right jab aimed for Ant's face. Ant dodged underneath it. Mrs. Lawrence was a canny woman who had done her best to see her son stay occupied and thus hopefully out of trouble. One of the ways she had tried to do this was by enrolling Ant in a boxing program at the local Hard Knocks Gym on 10th Street. Ant was by no means dedicated and had attended sessions irregularly for years but still some things had stuck. Things like keeping on the move. He back trotted a few steps holding his hands up in classic fisticuffs. The Spanish Lord came in again with another wild swing at Ant's head. The boy dodged it once more and retaliated with two lighting quick jabs to the man's gut. They barely made an impression. The man threw another hand. This time a left, the unexpected shift took Ant by surprised and he was just a second too slow. The blow struck him straight in the chin causing him to grunt with pain. The fat man followed up with another punch which connected Ant in the ribs winding him. The boy backed up and managed to duck under another punch aimed for the side of his head. At the corner of his eye he could see Loc and other gangbanger. Loc had disposed of the bat and was duking it out with the Spanish Lord fist to fist. His face was bloodied but he seemed to be holding his own. A clip to the right shoulder brought his head back to where it was suppose to be: avoiding having his ass getting stomped in. The fat Latino swung another heavy punch towards Ant's face. Ant leaned back avoiding the blow by inches. The miss caused his opponent to overbalance and stagger towards him. Ant didn't hesitate. His fists lashed out three times in rapid succession. Left, right, left. The first caught the Spanish Lord right beneath the left ear dazing him. Before he could recover the second smashed into his right ear and the third shattered his nose in spurt of blood, finally causing him to topple to the ground. The man struggled to regain his senses; he made an attempt to rise to his feet. Ant kicked him direct in the mouth and then stomped on his head until he was still.

Ant was breathing hard but he wasted no time in rushing forward to help his friend. He needn't have bothered. The other Spanish Lord was laid out on the filthy ground, his face a bloodied and unrecognizable pulp. Ant was glad to see that he was still breathing albeit shallowly. That relief quickly died away when his eyes returned to the body of the man Loc had struck with the bat. _That _Spanish Lord wasn't breathing at all. A pool of blood had collected around his shattered skull. He was quite dead. Ant shook his head in disgust as his heart pounded.

"Fuckers."

The youth looked up to see his younger friend leaning against the wall of the Seven Eleven gingerly touching the right side of his face which was heavily bruised and sported a streaming cut. He too was breathing hard but wore a grin of triumph. "That'll show them to come over here fucking around."

Ant said nothing. He didn't trust himself to speak. He felt that he just might vomit out all the contents of his stomach if he opened his mouth. He watched silently as Loc fell upon the dead bodies and began to empty out their pockets. Then Ant noted movement from the corner of his eye and turned his head to look. The sidewalk at the alley mouth was still busy with people going about their daily business. Many of them glanced into the alley but they just increased their walking pace, some outright ran. A couple however could be seen with mobile phones in hand. Sure enough the sound of siren could be heard over the normal city sound of engines, horns, and voices. It didn't sound like it was too far off either.

"Lets get the fuck out of here." Ant said desperately. Why the hell did he keep getting into situations like these? It just wasn't fair! Loc finished his search and slipped all his gains into his pocket. He snatched up his fallen bat and ran out of the alley. Ant was just a few feet behind him. They entered the car almost together and Loc was mashing on the gas before Ant's door was fully close. Loc dodged a red Perennial, sped down the wrong traffic lane, and screeched down another back alley. In just seconds they were blocks away from the scene of the crime.


	3. Today is not a good day

"I'll have two **Heart Stoppers, **Three servings of** Golden Shower Nuggets **with extra sauce**, **one** Beef Tower Special, **a** Bleeder Burger **with extra cheese,and one extra large lemon **Sprunk**." Loc grinned in anticipation after he had finished shouting his order into the drive thru speaker. Loc seem happy and relaxed. Ant was a stark comparison. He sat almost hunched over doubled in the passenger seat, his head was bowed and his hands were clasped as in prayer. His eyes were closed tightly and from time to time he shivered as if cold. A bead of sweat had gathered above his frequently trembling top lip. In his mind the bloody event was replaying again and again. Bravely trying to keep his mind from it Ant stared out the window. It was fifteen minutes since the fight and they were at the Burger Shot on Buffalo Bill St, roughly the southern border of Firefly MOB territory. Ant knew that it had once extended further, as far as Crockett Avenue which was almost ten blocks away but lately things had been going right to hell for his friend's gang. The MOB had always been under attack but in recent times they had been hit harder than they could hit back and as a result they were now slowly in retreat.

Ant knew that Loc would never admit that but it was the sad truth. From talk Ant was aware that the most damaging blows had been the attacks on the upper echelon. Since **Jermaine Andrews** took the permanent trip down to Alderney State two months before; Loc's oldest brother Big Loc was effectively the only OG remaining. The teen reflected upon the situation. Before losing Andrews the MOB had lost **Maxwell Caddy** two years before in 2008, he had been shot to death by a vigilante that had apparently disappeared into thin air afterwards.

That same year the gang had also lost **Jimmy**. No one knew who had done him in; he and one of the MOB homies were both found brutally beaten to death over at the Shortman Housing Projects in East Island City. All that was known for sure was that Jimmy's prized Blista Compact was missing and that he owed the Russian Mafia a lot of money, in retrospect it didn't take a lot to figure out who was more than likely responsible. 2008 had definitely been a bad year. They had lost two OG's and in addition to that they had lost some of their top dealers and a supplier when their trap house had been raided, and they had lost a lot of homies in an attack upon their Windmill St chop shop. _Why am I even thinking about this anyway?_

Ant leaned his head back and glared at the ceiling, thinking about the gang did not distract him from the fear and disgust that he felt. Indeed thinking about the MOB magnified the feeling; he was an accessory to murder. He had been in fights with Loc and others before of course, they were kids growing up in the ghetto after all, but it had never gone that far.

"That'll be fifteen dollars and ninety nine cents." A voice said through the drive thru speaker.

"Hey man you want anything?" Loc asked taking out some crumpled bills from his pants pocket and feeding them into a slot below the delivery flap.

Ant shook his head not trusting himself to speak lest he purged the contents of his stomach. The thought of food at that time was enough to make him gag.

"Suit yourself." Loc said with a shrug. Ant stared at him disbelievingly. Loc was humming along to _Six Foot Seven Foot _by Lil Wayne which was now blazing over the radio. He by no means looked like a man who had just bludgeoned someone to death. _What the fuck was wrong with him?! _Maybe it wasn't something that was wrong with Loc, had it been Jazzy or any of others that had been there Loc knew they wouldn't be tripping out the way that he was, perhaps it was something that was wrong with him. Loc clenched his hands in his lap and once again glared out the window.

"So where to now?" Loc asked after a few more minutes. He then stretched out the window and took three large paper bags stamped with the Burger Shot logo that had just been shoved through the delivery flap. Ant closed his eyes and said nothing, he felt numb. Almost hallow. He knew one thing, spending further time with Loc wasn't about to make him feel any better.

"I need to think." Ant muttered squirming uncomfortably in his seat. Loc had just taken out the Bleeder burger from one of the paper bags and was in the process of peeling off the wax paper. He paused and stared at his friend for a moment. Ant could not meet his eyes. Loc opened his mouth to say something then stopped halfway.

"Okay." He said instead after a few seconds of awkward silence. With a nod Ant opened the door and exited the car. He began walking and didn't look back.

Ant walked without direction or any real purpose. His head was still reeling and he was in the clutches of a mild shock. No matter how hard he tried he could not remove the image of the bat cracking into the Spanish Lord's skull from his head. He strolled the streets as if in a trance bumping into several people and getting more than one unkind word in return for his troubles. Without really knowing how he had got there Ant found himself sitting at a table on an enclosed patio outside a little café with a Spanish name he could not pronounce. He shook his head then looked around to get his bearings. Directly across the street from diner there was a tiny parking lot, on either side of the parking lot there were ragged run down looking buildings both labeled _Sunshine Apartments. _Cars moved up and down the street at rapid pace. Ant knew that he was on Sioux Ave though he had never visited the diner; he had been to those apartments. It was where he had gotten his first blowjob from a twenty dollar hooker before spending the next six months worrying if he had caught an STD when a strange red rash had appeared in a very sensitive location. The thought made him grin relieving some of his moodiness.

"What'll it be?" A dull voice drawled causing Ant to look up. Ant looked up to see a middle aged frumpy black woman smacking on some gum glancing down at him without emotion. Her dark hair was in tight buns and she wore a soiled apron over a black dress.

"Umm I was just sitting." Ant said rather lamely.

"You're either buying or leaving." The woman replied without any infliction.

"Fine I'll have a **Logger beer**." Ant said hoping that it wasn't more than five dollars. That was all the money he had on him. The woman gave him a look and then turned to enter the building hopefully to get Ant's beer. It was then that several things happened at once. First the back of the waitress skull disintegrated into a bloody mist and she collapsed boneless to the ground, a millisecond later there was a tremendous burst of sound. The sound of gunfire mixed with the pinging of bullets ricocheting from surfaces. Then a second later there was the screams and shrieks of terrified people and the screeching of cars desperate to get away. Something whizzed past Ant's forehead and that more than anything else was enough to stir him to motion. He hurled himself to the ground, a move that he had become all too familiar with in his time living at the Firefly Projects. The youth scrambled towards the cement barrier of the patio hoping to use it for better cover. He had just arrived when someone scaled over from the street side and joined him. Before Ant could blink again the cold barrel of a gun was shoved against his throat.

Ant stiffened as his mind working furiously. It just wasn't fair, it simply was not! Just how many life threatening situations could a man endure in one day? It was shaping out to be a very rotten day indeed and the worst part of it was that it was still midmorning. He closed his eyes and tried to wake himself up from what obviously had to be a very bad dream. But the feel of cold steel against his skin wasn't going anywhere.

"Who the fuck are you?" His assailant demanded speaking loudly to be heard over the continuous thunder of gunfire. The voice was cruel and dispassionate and carried just the edge of an accent. "Quickly boyo or I'll blow your fucking brains out."

"Ant Lawrence," The youth gasped. "Hey men take it easy I didn't see anything I swear."

"Shut the fuck up," The man snarled crouching down a bit lower as a bullet took out a chip of the wall directly above his head. "There is too many of them for me to take on alone so you going to help me out."

Ant stared at the man as if though he was crazy. For the first time he began taking in the stranger's features. He saw that the guy was tall; it was saying something that Ant could see that even though he was crouched over. His shoulders and arms were thick and corded with muscles, Ant could tell that his skin was pale but it had been undergoing a serious tanning session lately. He had flinty green eyes that seemed to smolder as if holding back a fire. Part of his nose bridge was missing and there was a long scar from beneath his right eye to jawline. Ant felt a shiver down his back, looking at this man Ant had a fairly good idea what his profession was and it was definitely not selling coffee. Ant knew that he was literally dancing on death's doorstep, he knew that it wouldn't take much for the man before him to pull the trigger and plaster the wall with Ant's brains.

"We're coming for you Irish prick!" Someone bellowed from a distance beyond the wall. "You went too far this time! You and you's whole group of micks is dead meat."

The stranger made no verbal reply. Instead he moved like a flash of lightening and in one fluid movement he rose up aimed over the wall and squeezed the trigger. The crack of gunfire almost deafened Ant who fell backwards on his ass in surprise. Then in just another second the stranger was once more ducking down beside Ant to escape the rain of bullet that answered his assault. He reached inside his jacket and came out with a black pistol. A Glock 19.

"Listen because I'm only going to say this once." He growled out. "If you move falsely I will shoot you in the back of the head but that shouldn't even be necessary because now you're fighting for your life as well. Those bastards don't take kindly to witnesses so best believe that they will kill you if you let them."

Lucky heart was pounding in his mouth as the man handed him the handgun butt first while still speaking in a loud voice so as to be heard over the gunfire. _Where the fuck are the pigs? For once I would actually be glad to see them!_

"Take this gun_ don't put your finger anyway near that trigger yet, hold it by the butt. Now on the count of three you'll run out of here, any direction you like. All I want you to do for me is survive which will necessarily involve shooting the people that will try to plug ye with holes as soon as you show your face. One."

Ant gazed at the hard unsympathetic face in shock. The man was mad! He simply could not be serious. There was nothing in the green eyes to suggest any humor.

"Bu-but I've never fired a gun in my life." Ant weakly protested.

"Two." The man declared putting his own gun back to Ant's temple leaving no doubt in the youth's mind as to what was going to happen if he was still there after the count of three. It was then that Ant knew that it was a direct choice between a ninety nine percent chance of being shot to death as soon as he ran out and a hundred and nine percent chance of being shot to death if he remained. Not giving himself time to think about it Ant took a deep breath than scrambled over the fence.

It was only by sheer luck that he was not killed outright immediately. Bullets whizzed so close to his head that he could feel their wake in the air. As what happened so often when adrenaline rushes through the body everything seem to slow down giving Ant the opportunity to take in everything. He could see three men standing a bit apart with AK-47's firing steadily at the wall. With a howl of fear and adrenaline Ant began firing off his gun. The men cursed and scattered. A red mist had descended over him as he squeezed the trigger until he heard the clicking of an empty clip. Then the moment was past and the youth was over the wall and unto the sidewalk. It had all taken only three seconds. In the next second Ant was running. Running was too mild a word. Halfway flying was more accurate as his feet barely touched the ground; the fear of death of giving them wings. Bullets whizzed all around him and Ant ran zigzag praying to god that none made contact. He leapt completely over a red feltzer and red head on into the side of a Mule truck that he could have sworn came from nowhere. Ant fell on his ass but it only took him a fraction of a second to regain his feet and once again began his headlong dash. Ant ran down the first back alley that he saw and followed it down all the way to the end. It brought him to a chainlink fence at least seven foot in height but that would not stop him. Using his running momentum Ant leapt and grabbed the top of fence, in a flash he had hauled himself over. The youth burst out unto another street and finally brought himself to a stop gasping and wheezing.

"What's your problem asshole." Snapped an older sharply dressed man who Ant had almost bumped into. "Late for a dick sucking session?" The man laughed at his own joke and continued on his way. Ant ignored him as he struggled to catch his breath. It was then that he still had the gun in his left hand. A lady in a red dress coming towards it took a notice to the firearm as well; she at once screamed and ran in the opposite direction. With a shrug Ant stuck the empty weapon into the back of his pants and covered it with his shirt. He listened as the blare of sirens finally began somewhere in the distance. Ant gritted his teeth before spitting on the ground in scorn. Of course, no more or no less than he expected. Still for now it was best that he got the hell out of there. He had no desire to take a trip down state to Alderney. There was no doubt that once the pigs caught him their investigation would end there and he would be spending ten to fifteen years in the can. Ant looked around for transportation. A Caucasian youth on a red BMX bicycle was slowly peddling towards him. He wore a black Dribblers snapback cap backwards, a black shirt displaying a luxury Kronos watch, and stonewashed jeans with white hi-tops. Ant grinned, it was about time he had some good luck. He ran forward and seized the handlebars of the BMX forcing the bike to a stop.

"I'm taking your bike fool." Ant snapped. He clenched his fist and punched the boy in the face with all his strength. The other youth flew from the bike to the ground. Ant leapt unto bike and began riding away.

"Hey asshole!" The other youth screamed. Ant increased his pace, just then something whizzed past his face and a millisecond later there was the loud report of a gunshot. _OF-FUCKING-COURSE! Of course he would have a fucking gun! _Ant hunched his body down over the bike trying to make himself as small a target as possible. The report of gunshots continued and the bullets continued flying past but soon he had banged a curve and was out of range. Ant continued his rushed ride towards the Firefly Projects and home. He had had his fill of the streets for the day.

_Okay where to begin. Reading Cross Fire by Native Gunz gave me the fresh inspiration needed to continue with this story. :) Mad shout outs to my boy right there and if anyone reading this hasn't read that fanfic yet they definitely should. It's real legit. Like a chronicle of what's really popping on the street. Oh I'd also like to thank all my reviewers as well; it was mostly thanks to you guys that I decided to update this first instead of my other fanfic. Anyone down to stuff that is worth mentioning. The first scene with Loc buying enough food for an army was inspired by the Drive thru mission in GTA San Andreas where Big Smoke did the same thing. Figured I'd just throw that in there since both of them were dough boyz in both size and dope slanging. The __**Heart Stopper, Beef Tower Special, Bleeder Burger, Logger Beer **__and __**Sprunk **__are all food items that can be found in the GTA series mostly between san andreas and IV. __**Golden Shower Nuggets **__are of my own invention, golden shower of course referring to the sexual act involve peeing on one's sex partner. Never did see that as anything more than extremely disgusting but hey to each their own. __**Jermaine Andrews, Maxwell Caddy, **__and __**Jimmy **__are all mentioned characters of the MOB gang in GTA IV. I decided to make them OG's because they were the only named members of MOB in the entire game. They all had some interaction with Niko. Maxwell Caddy could be taken out in a vigilante mission, Jimmy was the guy who you stole the Blista Compact from for vlad (it was down to player choice whether or not Niko killed him and his bodyguard or just stole the car) and Jermaine Andrews is the cat who you was suppose to kill for Gerald McReary, you could have spared him if you wanted and I always did. Murdering for a copper is just low. The other stuff I mentioned as reasons for the MOB decline in influence were also missions that Niko did in the game, the shootout at the chop shop and trailing a dealer who led you to an apartment where another shootout ensued. The guy who sent Ant on the suicide mission was indeed an Irish criminal though he is not related to the Mcreary brothers who is basically defunct at this point as it is now 2010 and the events of gta IV has already occurred. He will play a larger role in the future. So that will be all for now, this wasn't a really good chapter but the other one will be much better. I can't wait to get started. Heh. _


	4. Party Shot Part One

Ant turned the rusty faucet and killed the shower of water that had been cascading over him. Humming to himself the youth stepped out of the dinky bathtub and reached for a frayed towel which he used to dry his head and face. He was in a good mood. The day had been completely bullshit thus far but perhaps the night might prove to be better. With a yawn Ant wrapped the towel around his waist and exited the small bathroom. Ant and his mother resided in apartment 201, like most of the hundreds of other apartments in Building A of the Firefly Housing Projects it had exactly three rooms. The small dinky bathroom, the kitchen/living quarters, and a single bedroom which was utilized by Ant's mother. For the last eleven years Ant had slept on the largest of the three couches. On a whole life in apartment 201 was cramped, crowed, and uncomfortable. Ant suppose that at least he could be grateful it was just him and his mother, some apartments exactly like this had to fit between ten to twelve. That thought made him shudder. The youth made his way over to the threadbare couch where his clothing was already laid out. His mother was out so Ant wouldn't have to take the clothes to the bathroom as he usually did. Instead he changed right there. First went the boxers and a plain white tees. Then the socks. He then slipped into a pair of brand new black Khakis. Ant reached for the remote which was on the chair beside him and switched on the small black TV which stood on a wood stand prompted against the plastered wall. Another click of the remote brought the TV to a **Weazel** news report.

"_.… terror once again reinged supreme on the mean streets of Broker. The corner of Sioux and Mohawk was washed with blood as a terrific shootout allegedly between members of the mafia and an unknown assailant left four dead and ten wounded. Among the dead is Sharilyn Bradford, a waiter at the Carantani Nina and a mother of four. This is the third such incident within a five day period. Despite this police are claiming that crime is at an all time low. We here at Weazel news find that hard to believe….." _

Ant shook his head at the memory and fought down the urge to hurl as the memories of the event once more came back to mind. There was something seriously wrong with this city. It was beyond fucked up. He knew that Venturas has had its share of troubles but it had been infinitely better than this. Well that was not precisely true and Ant knew that. The vast difference was that in Venturas criminals were sophisticated suit wearing bastards who scored millions from the casino business whereas down here in Liberty criminals were stupid asshole who fired blindly in packed streets and sold drugs to kids in middle school. The youth finished lacing up his new white Hinterland boots and then reached for the blue and black plaid shirt.

"…_In other news the __**Los Santos Dribblers**__ has once again taken center stage in this year's playoffs with a complete domination in last night's match against the __**Windpoint City Warthogs**__. In what could only be described as forty eight minutes of pure brutality which ended in a seventy eight to twenty four blowout the Dribblers seem one step closer to once again securing this year's championship…." _

Ant let out a wild whoop of excitement at that. Now that was the ticket. He knew it. The Dribblers were unstoppable. They would take championship again this year as they had last year. They were simply the strongest team in the league. Jazzy and Loc had been swearing that the Warthogs would come out on top. He couldn't wait to see them later and get his gloating on. Ant finished buttoning up his shirt then he finalized his outfit by slipping on a thin silver chain with a weed leaf medallion and a black official **Liberty City Wrath ** wasted no time in preening himself before the small grubby mirror hung in the corner, he looked good and he well knew it. Loc had come through for him once more, the little psycho had many faults but grudging wasn't one of them. The little gangster had clothed Ant in the garments of kings.

With that thought Ant grinned even though it quickly faded when the thought of what would occur if his mother ever found out about this occurrence ran through his head. Now that was definitely not a thought worth dwelling on. In fact it positively scared him. Almost as a reflex action he looked up to the small broken cuckoo clock that hung above the door. The cuckoo hadn't cuckooed in four years but the clock still informed him that it was seven thirty seven pm. Ant knew that his mom was working a double shift at the power plant down in Alderney, figuring in the three hour commute she would be home a little after four fifteen am. She would come home, cook something and then pass out for the next four hours before getting up and began preparing for another grueling day of work. That had been the routine six days a week, every week of every month, for as long as Ant could remember. Ant tried to steer his mind away from the depressing financial situation of him and his mother, he would much rather spend his energy thinking about the party tonight. That thought made him grin once more. It was definitely going to be a hell of a party.

Angel Juarez was known for two things. The first was an ass that just didn't quit. Ant could swear it jutted out almost seven inches from her body. Other girls muttered that it wasn't natural while guys only dreamt of smacking it as hard as they could with an open palm. It was an ass like Angel's that made a straight guy yearn for anal. The second was a real double a plus personality; she was the type of girl that everyone wanted on their team. It was no surprise why she had dozens of girlfriends who were almost all fine as mofos. Where sexy girls congregated the brothers were always to follow, so all in all every time Angel threw a party it was a riot. Ant grinned as he stepped away from the mirror and turned off the TV, he and his boy Loc was going to lock the party down as they always did. They were the guys that were closest to Angel though none of them could claim the distinction of having tapped that ass (Loc had tried till he was literally blue in the face), so naturally following they had first dibs on all the females that came through by way of direct introduction. Ant wasn't hunting this time though, he already had a particular victim in mind. Angel had been telling him that her cousin Valeria was coming up from Vice City. She usually only visited her family in Liberty during the holidays but some disturbed psycho loony with a grudge because he wasn't getting any had shot up her college which had then closed until further notice. The last time she had visited was almost a year previously, Ant had made plans to see her and get her in a quiet corner then. But he hadn't been able to fulfill those plans because he had ended up spending the weekend in lockup after backing Loc up when some NHH punks had tried to jump him. While Ant and Loc had been inside fighting off Spanish Lord fools Valeria had been getting drunk and was quickly taken advantage of by Bamz who still never got tired of telling anyone about her magical blowjob. Ant was determined to ascertain the truth of Bamz claims for himself, he was almost a year overdue after all. He knew that Loc had the same plan but well he had saw Valeria first and a day was yet to come where Loc could beat him for the player of the year award; so it was to the better player goes the spoils as far as Ant was concerned. He would have been much more worried if he wasn't sure he was the better player though.

Just then there was a loud knock on his door. Speak of the devil.  
"Coming homie!" Ant called as he crossed the room to the door. There was another knock before he reached there.  
"Hurry it up fool. Fuck you doing changing your pad or some shit." The familiar voice of Loc called back from across the door.  
Ant threw the door open to reveal the short gangster who was also swagged out to the extreme. Loc wore a vintage red bobo ape t shirt, the iconic monkey slamming down the ball in the center of his chest, over this he wore a black hoody with blue edgings but left it open. He also wore black stonewashed jeans and a blue and grey **Son of Ares** **Mikes** which almost made Ant's mouth watered. Around his left wrist was the familiar gold crowex and his Cuban gold chain gleamed at his neck. On his head tilted to the left was a blue **Carcer City Cameltoes **snapback.  
"You look like a ragged ass mothafucka." Ant stated at once. He stepped out and then turned and locked the door with a key from his pocket.  
"Hating ass niggaz like you just add salt." Loc replied quoting the lyrics of one of their favorite songs. "Hurry up bitch, I want to get there before the honies all get locked down."  
"We going nigga we going."  
The two then made their way down the long narrow dimly lit corridor towards the elevators. As a child this walk had terrified Ant. Over the years as he had settled down to life in the projects the fear had come to be replace with familiarity but one thing that Ant had never grown familiar to was the god-awful stench. A mixture of weed, piss, vomit, and unwashed laundry. The smell of poverty. It was that stench more than anything else that reminded Ant of his situation, it was that stench more than anything else which motivated him to get out. They squeezed by a group of MOB who stood in front of one of the apartment doors lining the corridor smoking a blunt. They all nodded to Loc and Ant who returned their nods in turn.  
"Where Bamz and Jazzy at?" Ant asked inquiring about his two other friends. Now that he was thinking about it he hadn't seen them since the ball game which was almost two days before.  
"Fucking prick Gulliano dragged Bamz in for questioning about that shootout you was in," Loc snarled. "I swear I'll kill that jumped bastard one of these days. I swear it."  
Ant remained quiet, he was always uncomfortable when Loc spoke like that especially now since he saw how Loc could very well make good on such threats. Ant had long ago accepted that police harassment was just a part of their everyday life however. Unfortunate but true.  
"And Jazzy?" Ant prompted as they stepped over a laid out shirtless foul smelling man who was wordlessly mouthing to himself.  
"Fuck should I know?" Loc replied absentmindedly as they reached the elevator and boarded. "Tried to buzz him but no answer. Haven't seen that nigga since the ball game. Must be shacked up with Kayla or some shit. I dunno."

Ant thought that odd, sure Jazzy was starting to get real serious with Kayla but it wasn't like him to miss a party. Wasn't like him to not answer his phone either. The youth decided to push it to the edge of his mind at least for the moment, maybe he was just too wasted to pick up his phone. Still troubled Ant remained quiet as they rode the elevator down twenty stories to the ground floor. A short walk later they were in front of the complex. Loc then led Ant a little way up the broken and stained street where a sleek black soft-top Feltzer await.

"How the fuck do you do it men?" Ant asked bemusedly before shaking his head. Come to think of it he didn't even want to know. He walked around the car and slid into the passenger's seat.

"Because I'm just M-O-B-ing like that." Loc replied with a wide grin after he had entered himself. He ran his hand over the vinyl steering wheel fondly. "I really like this one though. Might keep it a bit longer before I flip it."

"Yo this bitch better not be hot men." Ant hurriedly snapped out. "I ain't into spending another party weekend in the fucking pen and I worse ain't into taking such a bogus charge."

"Can you please stop bitching for just one minute. Just one!" Loc laughed and ignited the car. He smoothly pulled out and then floored it. the car shot forward like a bullet, Ant was forced back into his seat.

"Try not to fucking crash too."

"Bitching nigga, bitching."

Loc banged around the curve and squeezed between a black Primo and an orange Presidente which were adjacent each other. Angry horns followed them as they drifted around another curve narrowly avoiding a direct collision with a beaten down rusted Mule.

"WOOOOO!" Loc shouted out in elation. "Good to be alive!"

"What the fuck is with you?!" Ant snapped as he became more and more alarm by the second. The manic was driving even more fucked up than usual.

"I'm just getting my practice in men." Loc said with another grin as he dodged around an orange Infernus and pumped the gas once more. The car responded immediately by flying forward like a sparrow escaping a hawk. Ant noticed in the alarm that the speedometer needle was hovering around 70. "**Kibbutz Incorporated **is hosting a race. First place is five g's and a Comet pink slip!" Loc eyes gleamed over at the thought.

"Practice suicide driving when you alone mothafucka." Ant yelped. Loc merely laughed and increased his speed. To his horror Ant spotted an approaching Mule truck with a burger shot motif. Loc wasn't to be swayed though.

"LOC!" Ant shouted but Loc still wasn't to be swayed. He kept on his path even when the truck began honking and horning. "LOC!"

Loc laughed and Ant was sure that he had lost it. The truck came closer, it was just mere feet away. The trucker tried to breaks but he had been going too fast and the truck slid rather than stopped. Ant prepared himself to take his chances and jump from the speeding vehicle. The little gangster laughed loudly and then slammed down on the emergency brake while simultaneously yanking the steering wheel to the left. The wheels at once seized up and the vehicle went into a deep slide. The bumper missed the grille of the truck by a mere six inches as the duo's vehicle drifted smoothly down an adjacent alleyway. Loc released the ebrake and once again grabbed the steering wheel. He yanked it to the right and narrowly pressed the car between a dumpster and a wall.

"What the fuck nigga!" Ant shouted when his heartbeat had finally stabilized. "What's the matter with you? Are you fucking retarded!?"

"you really need to learn to chill the fuck out men." Loc commented. "I've got this. Told you I'm the best mothafucking driver this city has ever seen."

They exited through the opposite side of the alley and emerged on Deadwood St. Ant knew that the party was at Sioux Ave in Rotterdam Hill which was still almost five miles away. If Loc continued to drive as he was driving then a collision was certain.

"Pull over nigga," Ant demanded. "Let me drive!"

"Hell nah bitch," said Loc. "This ain't no Pinnicle or goddamn Chavos. You barely driving stick I aint gonna let you experiment in my ride. I went to hell and back to steal this shit."

"Whateva nigga. Seriously just try not to park us up a mothafucking tree aight?"

"Bitch I told you I gots this. I'm a champion!"

Loc came to a stop at the red traffic light on the intersection of Butch St and Wyatt Ave. A blue Admiral with tinted class was the first car in the line of traffic directly beside them. It wouldn't have been so strange if the tinted class on the passenger's side did not began to slowly lower down.

"The fuck?" Loc muttered. At once he sidled low into his seat so that the door was protecting his head. Ant's heart jumped another beat. No, it wasn't possible. Not again. In fact if he was honest with himself it was very possible and very very likely that they were about to be shot at. It had just been one of those weeks. Loc began groping under the car seat and cursed when he didn't find what he was looking for.

"How the fuck did I forget to bring a heater?" He snarled furiously. "What's with me today? Ant better get down."

"Yo Loc. Chill nigga its me!"

They both sit up a little and looked out at the grinning face poking through the blue Admiral. The bulbous nose which was obviously broken in the past and the scar above the eyebrow was unmistakable.

"Mousy!" Loc shouted back angrily. "Don't you ever try that again! I was about to put twenty two in you foo."

Royce 'Mousy' Evans was known to both Loc and Ant from school. Far as Ant could tell he was from the Shortman Housing Projects on the other side of city. He was MOB as well, though from a different sect than the **Flyhood Rollerz** which consisted of Loc, Jazzy, Bamz and most of the male inhabitants of Building A and C of the Firefly Housing Projects.

"Where you bitches headed?" Mousy shouted back.

"The party nigga. Angel's party. Where else?" Ant called back.

"We gots to go handle some shit then we might be heading over there ourselves. Mo time homies." With that the Admiral rolled forward and took a right as their light finally changed. Ant and Loc's traffic light followed suit just two minutes later and Loc drove forward and then took the left.

"Man hit the radio." Said Loc as he overtook a red Buffalo and squeezed behind a Pizza This Mule truck. "Is it a fucking funeral in here or what?"

Ant had no problem with obliging. He at once began fiddling with the radio, jumping stations until he came to the Beat 102.7.

_Its Mista Cee on the Radio and we about to continue the party with another jumping track from our boy 50. This is another classic men! Lets get it started! _

"In my Hood" by 50 Cent began blaring out the radio and the two boys began singing at once and in almost perfect harmony.

"Niggas screw their face up at me, On some real shit son they don't want beef, I cock that aim that shit out the window, spray they ain't no shells left in my heat…."

"_Yall niggas better lay down, _

_Yeah I mean stay down_

_Get hit with a K round _

_Ya Ass ain't gonna make it_

_You niggas gon' get layed out in blood and ya brains out_

_Have you on the concrete shivering and shaking" _

"I'M FROM FIREFLY MOTHERFUCKER!" Loc shouted out in tune with the sound. "WHERE THE GATS EXPLODE!"

"If you feel you on fire boy drop and roll!" Ant sang out with a laugh. Just then Loc's phone rang, Ant turned down the radio as the youth fumbled to answer it one-handed.

"Yo. Yeah we on the way. Be there in another fifteen minutes. See you in a bit"

Loc hung up and Ant didn't need to ask him to know that it was probably Angel.

"Lets hurry." Loc said with a smile. "Sound like the party's bumping. We missing out."

With that he once again put his foot down and the car shot forward. This time Ant didn't try to stop him.

Angel Juarez's home on Sioux Avenue was a far cry away from what Ant had grown up knowing in the Firefly Projects. For one thing it was a home. An actual house_. _With an eight foot high cement fence and steel gate protecting it from prying eyes. It had a well maintained lawn of cool looking green grass and two apple trees. The house itself was a nice three story white colonial building that looked like it had been standing forever but hadn't aged even one bit. The front yard was packed with people. Milling around in groups sipping from Styrofoam cups or covered plastic bottles, slumped out on the grass apparently already too drunk to move, dancing to the roaring dancehall music blaring out from the house, and even up in the trees using substances that Ant was sure could get them expelled from school. He strode through the multitudes a little behind Loc, exchanging greetings with dudes and various hugs with girls that he barely knew and sort of knew. Ant was in his element.

"Yo Ant! Loc!" Someone shouted over the general party noises.

Ant looked around until he spotted the source of the sound. A waving grinning youth around the same age as Ant and Loc. He was dressed as a poster boy for the new jerkin movement that was rapidly springing up around Liberty like a weed infestation. A black shirt with the words _Ladies Enquire Downstairs for Low Paying Job _emblazed upon it in bright neon green. Tight as hell black skinny jeans that was all but outlining his damn nuts, and neon green Mikes hi-tops. A green and black **Rushmore City Rods **snapback and a gold rosary chain completed his attire.

"Awww fuck." Ant called back in reply as he made a beeline for the other boy. "Not you to Mike. Goddamn. Look at how you dressed nigga. All you need is a fucking faggio and some gay fuck from Hercules ridding behind you."

"Men go fuck yourself." Mike laughed. "Come over here and meet my bitches."

"Hold up who exactly you calling a bitch fool?" Said a girl who was standing near him. She was a sweet little thing. Shorter than Ant by a head, hazel skin, curly brown hair, and a body that just wouldn't quit. The body was further highlighted by a tight black sequin cocktail dress that came to above the knees and the six inch black pumps.

"That fine young woman right there is Lisa." Mike said with a little laugh. "This ma niggas Ant and Loc."

The girl stepped forward and embraced both Ant and Loc by way of greeting. Ant didn't miss the few seconds longer that Loc held the girl's embrace nor the discreet ass squeeze that he gave her. He almost grin at that, the little nigga was incorrigible.

"This one right here is Diamond. Say hi baby."

"Hi." Giggled the next girl who was standing beside Mike. She was a leggy busty dark skinned beauty. Her sexable body was displayed with great approval from the male audience by the black short shorts and gray tank top and sandals that she wore. She as well embraced the duo. The glazed over look in her eyes and the strong smell of alcohol on her breath signaled her inebriation.

"And finally this fine little thing here is Suzie."

The last girl was an Asian. She was the shortest of the girls but in Ant's opinion the sexiest. There was something seriously appealing about her exotic features. She wasn't built on the busty side like her companions but rather her body was more athletic and petite. She was also dressed more conservatively in blue skinny jeans, a white blouse bearing the **Anna Rex** logo, and a blue cardigan. On her feet were black **Charles Tylers**. Suzie hugged Ant and Loc as well thought her hug was much quicker and much less personal than the other two girls. She smelled faintly of jasmine and some other flower that Ant couldn't name, he found that he rather liked the smell.

"Come on you people," said Mike. "Why the fuck we still sober? Lets get our drink on."

"I can live with that." Diamond giggled out once more. "Come on!" She stepped forward and almost fell flat on her face. Loc reached her just in time, his arm immediately sneaked around her waist in an attempt to 'support' her.

"Oh baby, you strong." She laughed. Loc answered her with a grin of his own. The two led the way towards the house. If Ant knew his younger companion the girl was going to wake up tomorrow with a sore pussy in addition to her hangover, he almost felt sorry for her. Almost. Just then Ant felt an arm sneak around his own. He looked over to see a smiling Lisa who now seemed much friendlier.

"Hey swag boy," She purred. "How about you be my tour guide?"

Ant smiled at her and made his way through the crowd towards the house. No matter what he was intent on getting his cane polished tonight, whether it be from Valeria or Lisa did not matter. Hell why not from both. It was shaping out to be a very good night indeed.

**Okay. *Insert Little Wayne's "Sorry 4 the Wait" song here.* Apologies readers, freshman year at college should explain it. Not so much the school work, at least not yet. Just the fucking distractions. Bitches and blunts and alcohol namely. Swear I've been more faded than sober this past month definitely. Was doing the same shit in high school of course but now the chances to do it just pulled a ten fold increase. This chapter was broke down into two parts because it was really getting long. I been writing like a man possessed. Beside that I wanted a single chapter at least to just highlight the lifestyle as well as friendship. I also wanted the chapter to kinda flesh the characters out a bit as well. Make them more three dimensional. Don't worry though, I shall soon get back to the bullets and bloodshot that you have come to love reading and I have come to love writing. xD Now unto some replies: **

**Huamncygrax, CommonCurtisy, Samoanblood- Thanks a lot for your review guys! xD. Seriously its support from you readers that make writing so fun for us writers. I really appreciate it and I plan to keep it up just for you and any other readers out there. I hope you enjoyed this latest chapter as well though it was a bit keyed down on the violence as I stated. **

**Stelm- Heh I've run out of steam for Windpoint City right now. I do plan to get back to it but I'm the type of writer that writes when inspiration strikes, I don't go looking for it. lol. I agree though, I did went all out Rambo on Windpoint City even though I still think Lucky is a way cooler protagonist than Ant. To be honest Ant is basically the guy that I am when I'm rolling with my homies and Lucky is the nigga that I wish I am when I'm rolling with my homies if you catch my drift. I haven't gotten to your update in South Harroline yet but I'm a do that now. I been thinking more and more though that Afro, Gunz, Harbringer, you and I should really begin writing in the same continuity. Use each other cities, use the same parodies, maybe random encounter or co star characters within reason. that sort of thing. Make like one big fanfic universe you know. That is something that I was planning to propose to each of yous. You guys have all created fucking awesome ass city that I would personally love to have my own characters explore. I wouldn't mind a couple of you making trouble for my Iries in Windpoint City as well. As you know its based from Chicago even though someone who I can't recall off handwrote a fanfic with Carcer based from Chicago, I disagree. I really feel that Carcer was more Detroit but that's open to debate. Any way I invite any of you to hit me back with your thoughts about this potential collation. **

**Native Gunz-First off ya you right about them mistakes. I just checked the wiki which I should have done before hand. Thanks for pointing that out homie. Also I ain't complain about the ambiguity of the black gangs in GTA IV, gives me a ton of room to freestyle which I love. xD. I'll be bringing more and more parodies of the actual New York gangs in as time moves on. **

**As for the flip flopping I know exactly where you mean. I've got to say that in reality I'm in Ant's position though much better off financially due to hard working parents. I'm basically upper middle class in a poor crip controlled neighborhood and I've got crip family members as well. So I've known this clique since childhood and I roll with them, I don't put it work but I hang around. They still respect me and shit for my uncle and cousins and being childhood friends with them and all so I'm allowed. When I'm around and a fight kicks off I'm a jump of course, anything less means that you just a bitch, but I don't go out with them looking for trouble though I do run for them if trouble comes my way. Heh.**

**Anyway I remember this other dude that we all knew from school, boy wanted to roll so hard. Stay coming around, buying lunch for everyone, volunteering his mom's car and shit. He was real solid too, never afraid to put in his pound of flesh. Only thing is that he was white. That was essentially the only reason why my friends did not take him seriously even though none of them were in the slightest bit racist to the best of my knowledge. **

**BTW I've never actually played Saints Row I, or II, only III which I found completely ludicrous and almost downright retarded. Call me a diehard GTA fan but I did not enjoy Saints Row the third at all. I think it tried too hard to be funny with the tiger escort mission and streaking and tank mayhem etc. But to each their own. Yes I am eagerly awaiting GTA 5, I've got all the screen shots in a folder and I've seen both trailers, I'm preordering as soon as I get enough money. Now THAT's a real game. I might incorporate the multiple protagonist thing myself as time goes on though I don't know how that would work out. Lol. I agree that they shouldn't have dropped the gf and friends system. That was revolutionary, what made IV so damn fun. I think that if they completely drop clothes customization then that would be going way too goddamn far. That was my biggest problem with IV and one of the main reason I still have so much fun with San Andreas. **

**On an unrelated note I haven't checked your Cross Fire update yet, haven't read much of anything lately but life is finally settling down so I'm a get back to my daily routines soon. But I want you to think about what I propose above as well, the same universe thing. I'm telling you that would be sweet. **

**Unto the parodies. There were quite a few this time around because I've just got a love for snapback hats so expect to see loads of them in this fic even though they don't quite fit the period. Stelm we wear the hell out of them where I come from too. My collection consists of seven and growing. Heh.**

**Weazel- Rockstar Parody of Fox. **

**Los Santos Dribblers- Rockstar parody of the Los Angles Lakers **

**Windpoint City Warthogs- My personal parody of the Chicago Bulls **

**Liberty City Wrath- Rockstar Parody of the New York Giants/Jets**

**Carcer City Cameltoes- Parody of the Detroit City Titans. The sexual innuendo should be obvious. **

**Rushmore City Rods- Team I created based from Metal Harbringer's fucking a plus plus plus grand theft auto Fanfic GTA: Rushmore City. Rod is a innuendo for penis of course. Hope he doesn't mind too much but anybody reading this who haven't read that should definitely read Harbringer's work. Its seriously one of the best that I've read up here ever and every time I come on I check for an update. **

**Mikes- My personal parody of the Jordans sports shoe line because where there is young black men you've just got to have jays. xD **

**Anna Rex- Rockstar clothes line geared towards skinny women**

**Charles Tyler- This is a parody of Chuck Taylor's created by Stelm. **

**Son of Areas Mikes- My parody of the Jordan Son of Mars which is hands down the coolest tennis shoe ever fucking invented. **

**Kibbutz Incorporated- Kibbutz Incorporated was created by Mori and Bruice Kibbutz in late 2009. That's all that I will say for now for the sake of not giving away spoilers. :p **

**Flyhood Rollerz- Loc's clique of the MOB. For now completely original though when I learn more about Brownsville culture I might eventually base them off a crip set from there. *have never been to New York*  
**

**Second half of the chapter is almost complete, just need a tiny bit more polishing up. Promise it will be up quicker than this one. As always people read, enjoy, and review. Heh. Peace. **


	5. Party Shot Part Two

**And Here is Part Two. I begin by warning that the beginning is a bit…smutty. Heh. So if you're not prepared for that I would advise that you skip this chapter. I've been trying to get this up forever but my net connection is crap at the moment. Uploading from a café currently. Anyway, without further ado here we go. xD**

It was now just a little past ten thirty, meaning that Ant had been partying for just under two and a half hours. The youth was now proud to say that he was completely fucked up. He was in the sizable lavishly decorated living room leaning back in one of Angel's leather sofas, a cocktail of **Rockstar Edinburgh Whiskey, Cherenkov Vodka, Ecola** soda, and crushed ice in his right hand and a blunt of purple kush in his left hand. The girl that Mike had introduced him to earlier but whose name now completely escaped him was astride him, she was gyrating and rocking her body jerkily to the sound of "Pop, Lock, and Drop It" by Huey. If possible Ant would say that she was even more fucked up than him. Despite the rapid spinning of the room Ant raised his glass and took another long gulp. The ice cold liquid burnt like fire on its way down but it was an oh so delicious burn.

"Men let me hit that weed men." Slurred someone from beside Ant. The youth looked over a bit unfocused at the other couple that was in the sofa beside him. It took him a few seconds to remember that it was Loc. The chubby gangster was reclined a drink in his hand as well, the girl that he had met earlier was in his lap also. She was all but passed out, her head lowing against Loc's shoulder and her eyes closed. Loc never one to miss an opportunity had his free hand way down the front of her pants. Ant raised the blunt to his left and took a long expert draw, holding in the smoke he passed the herb over to his friend. Ant then let the fragranced smoke out only to immediately draw it back in and hold it once more. His female companion giggled and clapped like a child. The youth reached up and grabbed her firmly by the back of neck, he pulled her in for a kiss and through the course of the kiss directed all the smoke into her mouth. She expertly released the weed smoke from her nostrils looking for all the world like a sexy dragon.

Without missing a beat she reached forward and kissed Ant once more, long and deeply. Ant's hand immediately went to her firm rounded bottom, he discreetly pulled up the back of the sequin dress revealing the girl's thong clad ass to any preying eyes. At this point the girl was too drunk to care.

No," Ant heard a slurred weak voice to his left murmur. "No…..don't…...yes. yes. Oooo."

He broke his kiss long enough to look over to his left. He saw that Loc had the girl against the sofa and was atop her, from his position Ant could see her hot pants and her blue and white **Princess Robot Bubblegum **underwear around one ankle. Loc had his own pants around his knees and he was grunting and groaning in tune to the thrusting motions of his hips.

"Fuck this is tight!" He exclaimed to himself.

Ant shook his head in despair and returned his attention to his own girl who had been steadily but sloppily nibbling on his neck. Ant pulled aside the thin sheet of material covering the girl's genitals and slipped a finger into her. She moaned a bit too loudly for Ant's liking but he still proceeded to pumping his finger in and out of her wet slippery confines.

"Yeah baby just like that." The girl moaned out.

Ant continued fingering her as he drained the remainder of his drink in one more gulp. The room that had just been spinning almost immediately began to blur as well. He dropped the Styrofoam cup to the floor and then began unzipping while still continuing his finger movement. It didn't take him long to free himself from the confines of the pants. The girl at once reached out warm soft hand and took hold of Ant's member. She rapidly began jerking her hand up and down over the youth eliciting a soft moan but Ant wanted more. He reached for the back of her head once more and gently but firmly began pushing it down to his lap. The girl resisted.

"No," she protested. "I ain't nasty like that. I said no nigga."

"Just a little kiss," Ant negotiated while still forcing her head. "You don't even have to put it in your mouth. Just a quick little kiss."

"No!"

"Please babe. Just one kiss."

"Okay, one kiss. And just don't tell no one."

"I'd never. Don't worry."

The girl leaned downward and puckered her lips to give the stiff member a kiss. Ant at once shoved her head down and thrust upwards with his hips, pushing straight pass her lips and deep into her throat. He released a long moan of pleasure but continue to hold down the girl's struggling head. He knew that he had her caught, she had two choices. Either go with the program or bite him. Ant knew that she liked him way too much to ever try the biting so eventually she would give in to the inevitable and stop fighting. After all it was already in her mouth. Ant decided to give her a little encouragement.

"Damn baby that's so good." He murmured. "You're making me feel so good. I love what you doing so much."

He allowed her to come up a bit then pushed her head back down once more. Surely enough within a few more seconds her head was bobbing up and down over him of its own accord while his hands were behind his own head and a smile of triumphant flashed upon his lips. A tap on the arm brought Ant's attention back to Loc who was still plowing the moaning and crying girl like a jackhammer. He was passing back the blunt which Ant immediately regained and took a long pull from. Let no man ever say that life was not good.

_30 mins later _

"You wanna dance baby?" The girl asked as she stubbornly clung unto Ant's arm as he navigated through the crowds, most of who were now partying to "Shots" by LMAO. Ant was once more outside in the front yard and among the other partygoers. It was still packed though less tightly than before as more and more couples had found various corners of the property to sneak off to for their own private parties. With one blowjob under his belt Ant had decided to go seeking his second victim. He had left Loc going for a round four with the poor young woman. Ant slightly envied him, a bj no way compared to some good old fashion tight as hell pussy but like Loc he had forgotten to bring condoms and unlike Loc he wasn't that brave or desperate.

"Maybe later," Ant said. "Wait here for me. I'm going to go get us some drinks."

"I'm a go with you."

"Nah don't even trip. I'm a be back real quick." He gave her a quick peck on the lips and a pat on the ass before turning around and disappearing between an overweight chum with hookah pipe and an equally overweight girl with a super king size bucket of Cluckin Bell's golden shower nuggets. God riddance to her, now time to find Angel and her cousin. The alcohol and marijuana was still running rampant through Ant's system. He had a high tolerance which was almost genetic if his dope fiend father was anything to judge from; but he couldn't deny that he had intake enough of the two substance to put anyone under for at least twelve hours. He shook his head in a vain attempt to gain vision clarity as he continued walking but it was a no go. The world continued to cartwheel around him. After everything gave one particularly huge lurch Ant decided that he needed to sit down. He managed to make it to the base of an apple tree and fell sluggishly to his hands and knees. Without further ado Ant began puking out his guts.

It was a sharp tap to the top of the skull that awoke Ant. Up until then he wasn't even aware that he had passed out.

"Finally." Loc laughed. "Think I lost you there for a moment."

Ant sat up from his slumped over position his head pounding as if though being kicked in by a horse.

"No more drinks for you homie. Lightweight bitch."

"Men fuck you." Ant groaned.

He got unsteadily to his feet and groaned once more. Damn, what the devil had he been drinking?

"There you two are." Said a cross voice from behind.

The duo turned in time to see a tall Hispanic young woman coming towards them. Her ebony hair was done up in a tight stylized knot and she wore a pink cocktail dress from which her breasts seem to desperately yearn to escape. Pink hooker heels and a pink beads chain complimented her attire. Even from a front on view her huge ass was visible impossible as it seem.

"I've been looking for you two all night." She went on. "Where the fuck have you been?"

"Inside." Ant grunted in reply. Angel Juarez arched a perfectly done eyebrow.

"And what exactly were you doing inside? I thought you was here for my bitch of a cousin."

"Where is she?" Ant asked quickly. He had almost forgotten about the reason he had ventured out of the house.

"Passed out and being rushed to the er by my dad for alcohol poisoning." Angel answered sourly. "Stupid bitch could never hold her liquor."

"Like some niggas around here." Loc laughed.

"Fuck you." Ant snapped once more. He absentmindedly began taking in his surroundings, noting that the party was still in full swing. "You're A JerK" by New Boyz was now blaring out much to Ant's annoyance. A little distance away there seem to be a huge cheering crowd congregating in a full circle leaving little doubt that they were spectators to a jerking competition.

"Gay fucks." Said Loc out loud, he directly echoed Ant's feelings. "Anyway lets get back to our party. Come on Angel there's something inside I want to show you."

"No."

"You don't even know_"

"No."

"Come on baby don't be like that you know that_"

"The answers no Loc."

Ant laughed at that causing Loc to curse furiously under his breath. It was then that the trio heard the sound even over the music.

"SOOOOWOOOOO!"

Ant watched as Loc visibly stiffened. His heart sank and he instantly sobered up. He should have known that the night was going too good to last. He should have seen this coming. He looked around and it didn't take him too long to locate them. In fact he did it within five seconds flat. He had had a lot of practice after all. Ant's heart sank another foot lower when he saw that they were heading straight towards him, Loc, and Angel and his heart touched the soles of his Hinterland boots when he recognized one of them.

"Mothafucking pretending ass bitches." Loc snarled from beside him.

Five of them. All boys around Ant's own age and a couple just a tad bit older. All of them African Americans. They wore Windpoint City Warthogs jerseys, jackets, plain t shirts, baggy cargoes, snapbacks, button down shirts and plaids. The only consistency to their attire was a red motif and a red bandana, each of them sported a red bandana in some style or the other. Ant knew them. He didn't even need his close connections with the Flyhood Rollerz in order to know who these men were; they were as famous as the MOB who they had been feuding with since the early nineties. They were members of the **United Hustlerz Nation**; specifically they were members of the **Iroquois Ave Maniacs** set. That was one gang among others that competed directly against the Flyhood Rollerz and its allies for the lucrative territory around Firefly and South Slopes.

"Loc don't start no shit." Angel pleaded in a soft voice tinged with desperation as the gangbangers steadily approach. "Please don't fuck up my party. Please."

Ant's heart began galloping like a horse caught in a burning barn. He should have followed his intuition and stayed the fuck home. He shouldn't have ignored the general rule of thumb: when your day started bad it _always _ended worst. He fought off fear as he locked eyes with one of the boys, he was on the right side and walking a little ahead of everyone else. He wore a red Rockstar jacket over a plain white tees and black stonewashed jeans that were tucked into hightop white Mikes. A red rosary chain was around his neck and a red and white Windpoint City Warthogs snapback was tilted to the right on his head. A large ugly purple bruise was spread across his face like a birthmark. Ant knew the guy from school, his name was Glen Collins. Ant also knew how the bruise had got there. It had to do with Bamz and Jazzy hitting him repeatedly in the face when they had caught him slipping through Blackfoot Ave. that fact definitely wouldn't help their situation. The group stopped just a few feet from Ant and his friends, way too close for comfort. He could feel cold sweat running down his back but he fixed himself for a fight. He might not fly the MOB flag but he would die before he backed down and leave his friend to face five assailants alone.  
"Angel," One of the boys said in a mocking voice stepping forward. His black hair was so wavy that it was almost unbelievable. He wore a full red Gap khakis suit with the shirt only button to the third button displaying the white shirt beneath. The man also wore red Mikes. "What happened to our invitations? Lost it in the mail."

"Ricky," Angel said in an exasperated voice. "I told you to leave me the fuck alone! I told you to stay away from here!"

"You cut me like a knife doll." The man Ricky said with a sneer. "You gave me up for these ragged ass busta niggas right here?"

"Coming from a pretending ass tampon bitch?" Loc shot out. _Ahhhh Loc, _Ant thought to himself despairingly. At once the atmosphere which had already been charged tensed up even further. The animosity in the air was palpable. All the Maniacs took several aggressive steps forward. Ricky was just inches away from Loc who glared back at him unflinching. He towered over the smaller younger gangbanger but Loc did not give an inch. The mad-dogging contest went on for a few more seconds before Ricky broke the silence.

"The fuck you say boy?"

"Fuck you nigga! Best back the fuck up before I lay your ass out. You and your whole set of bitches. Your team wears snitch jackets!"

Several things happen at once then. All around the place exploded into madness. Without warning Ricky threw a huge left hand punch towards Loc's face. The blow looked like it had enough power to decapitate provided that it caught, as it was Loc was expecting the hit and he hit it away with a forearm. Loc then retaliated with a vicious blow of his own, striking Ricky directly on the nose causing it to fountain blood. The two then immediately fell to it but Ant had no more time to watch as two of the Maniacs came for him. The first who wore a red Windpoint City Warthogs jersey took the lead, coming upon Ant both hands up in classic boxer's fashion. His companion who wore a plain red t shirt circled around to the side, in his hand was a short handled broad bladed knife. Ant's bowels threatened to void themselves at that sight. This was serious.

The Manic with the jersey came at Ant swinging for all he was worth. Ant ducked the first hit for his face but the follow up punch to his gut winded him. He stepped back but forced himself to fight on despite the pain. Ant dodged to the left and fetched the Manic a left hand punch to the face with all his might. The jersey wearing Manic staggered back and Ant pressed the attack. He stepped forward and kicked the Manic between his legs. The man gasped and doubled over as his nuts were crushed but Ant still wasn't done. He raised his foot to kick the Manic again, another kick directed to the chin which would send him headfirst into unconsciousness. If the guy had a health bar on him Ant could already imagine it being in red, he didn't doubt it would only take one more hit to bury him. However before he could launch his kick a sharp burning agony to his shoulder cause him to abandon that plan very quickly. He staggered forward gasping with pain.

Ant quickly turned and found the other Manic pursuing him with his knife bloodied. Stupid, stupid, stupid! How could Ant have forgotten him? From somewhere far off Ant heard a loud piercing scream. From somewhere far off he heard shouts and cries of confusion and the thumping of many feet. But none of that mattered what mattered was that the Manic was advancing on him again with his gory knife raised. The enemy swung at Ant's neck but Ant managed stumble back. That was when something struck him on the back of the head causing stars to explode into his visions as pain started in his skull and spread to the rest of his body, stealing the strength from his limb. Ant fell heavily to his back and his vision began to swim. At the corner of his eyes he could see Loc on the floor as well, three Maniacs kicking him to pieces. He began dully aware of blows falling upon his own body but the pain was muted. Ant's lost thought before falling into darkness was that once again he had missed his opportunity for a blowjob from Angel's cousin.

**Okay onward for parodies. **

**Rockstar Edinburgh Whiskey, Cherenkov Vodka, Ecola- Liquors that are commonly found in the grand theft auto univsere. To the best of my knowledge Edinburgh is Black Label, Cherenkov is original, and Ecola is a parody coke. **

**Princess Robot Bubblegum- A tv program that showed in the Lost and Damned that I found pretty funny. **

**United Hustlerz Alliance-A collation of different blood gangs that has banded together for protection and mutual profit. Primary color is red and black and primary industries including drug manufacturing, drug distribution, and robbery. Based on the United Bloods Nation of New York.**

**Iroquois Ave Maniacs- Hustlerz gang that is based in Iroquois Ave. They are the direct rival of the Flyhood Rollerz that Loc and his friends belong to. **

**Okay so that brings us to the conclusion of this chapter. BTW I might add that the inspiration for this chapter is a party that me and my boy went to in summer. Everything is basically the same except we are smarter than Ant and Loc and as soon as we saw them red flags we hauled tail out of there as quick as possible. .. And Now to clarify a few things what had happened just now is that Ant was Wasted. If he had completed the mission successfully he and Loc would have kicked the shit out of the Hustlerz, steal a car, and outrun police back to the hood. But they didn't so they both have a ticket straight to the hospital. This is something that I've always wanted to explore for the longest amount of time, the reason why the protagonist gets out of the hospital so quickly and the reason why there are just free to walk no matter what criminal endeavor they were participating in when they were Wasted. More on that in the next chapter. Once again I'd like to thank everyone for their reviews. Stay tune for more because things are about to get way heated. :3 **


	6. The Return of the King

**((Okay another update. I know it took a devil of a long time to go up but I've been busy. Women and partying and schoolwork in that order. Anyway before we go I'd like to say a thank you to all the people that have been taking the time to read my work. I hope you keep on following me and reading my work. Its you guys that keep me motivated. :D **

**Suga227: This is set in 2010. But Playboy will still be appearing. In this rendition its Dwayne Forge that Niko sent to hell. I don't like Playboy one bit but I've got plans for him. :3 **

**Anyway on to the story. **

"We're loosing him!"

"Are you surprised?! Half his blood is on the table!"

"Punctured lung. Punctured stomach. Punctured liver. They almost hit all his fucking vitals."

"This is the fifth one for the night..."

"Zap the bastard! I won't have that insane senator come here threatening to shut us down for malpractice again! Zap him!"

A tingle washed over Ant's body so muted and fleeting that he almost wasn't sure that he felt it. He wasn't feeling much of anything if truth be told. He was somewhere beyond feeling and senses. A dark restful place. It wasn't unpleasant; in fact he felt that he could stay there forever. He thought that he just might do that.

"Again! Damn it! Again!"

For some reason the youth began remembering the strangest moments. Ant could only guess that he was feeling nostalgic. No, it was more than memories. It was like a movie of flashbacks playing in his mind. There was the first time he had met Loc and the crew after they had protected him from a group of kids that lived in the opposite building from them. There was the first time of many that he, Loc, and Jazzy had gotten buzzed off some lean which they had stolen from the older Bamz. There was the first time the gang had joyride in Loc's mom's vehicle. He remembered how they had crashed it and the subsequent scouring of the city after to find an exact replica to steal. The flashbacks went on and on. His first kiss. His first sexual encounter. His mother telling him how proud she was of his good grades. His principal telling him that out of 600 students he might be the only one to make something of himself. Ant slowly came to the realization that he was witnessing the highlights of his life.

"its not working! He's flat lining!"

"No. damnit! No! We can't loose another one! Five of the bastards in one night...We can't! Beth fetch the **XP-10**!"

"But sir! The drug is still being tested! We're not even supposed to have it!"

"Do it you dumb bitch! This is the only hospital in city that would take us! I'm not about to lose it when the senator comes here blowing up because we didn't do all we can to save him. Do you want to work in fucking Alaska?!"

Just then the darkness seemed to roll over and claimed Ant completely. His last thought was of his mother, and then he knew no more.

5 days later

Ant stood in the blaring early morning sunshine blinking his eyes in bemusement. It was a bit overwhelming after five days of dull fluorescent light. He knew that he must be quite a sight. Even though he was wearing a clean outfit of white t shirt, cargo shorts, and Mikes slippers that was delivered by his mother earlier in the day he knew he must still look like hell. He was sporting several days of stubble and also seemed to have lost quite a bit of weight. Despite his rugged appearance he was feeling great. He was feeling in the best shape of his life if he was honest. He knew that he was lucky to be alive. The Doctors had muttered that much to him time and time again during his stay. From what he had gathered he had been given a very secret and very experimental drug. It was the reason he was still breathing and already out of the hospital. He felt the edges of nervousness as he was smart enough to know that all drugs had side effects but strangely all the doctors absolutely refused to tell him what they were. Ant wasn't complaining too much though, he was still thankful to them for saving his life.

The boy took two uncertain steps forward and then his walking steadied. He descended the flight of marble stairs leading up to the hospital and then stood on the sidewalk for a minute finding his bearing. It was just a little after seven so the streets were of course bustling. People rushed past and around him. Some rudely jostling him and then subsequently cursing and threatening him after as was typical in the city. The hospital was located on Crow Ave in South Slopes_, _and that was several miles from the Firefly. Ant patted his pockets and found to his chagrin that he didn't even have pocket change to catch a bus. He knew that his mother would not be able to pick him up; she had taken too much time off work to come visit him as is. With a sigh Ant consigned himself to walking. He had taken a few steps down the street and then he stopped suddenly as a thought struck him. _Why the FUCK am I about to walk four miles? What's the matter with me_?

"Watch it asshole!" A frumpy old woman who had almost bumped into him snarled as she walked pass.

Ant ignored her as he surveyed the traffic on the street. There was more than a fair share of fine automobiles zooming down the road in their eternal rush to reach their destination. The youth eyes skipped past all of those searching for a specific vehicle. He found what he was looking for in the form of an overweight balding man in black leather cruising on a sweet looking black and blue Dinka Double T sports bike. The motorcycle was indeed a work of art, beautiful even to Ant's untrained eyes. The man was cruising only feet away from the sidewalk and thus only feet away from the youth. It was like a fucking invitation. Without further hesitation Ant stepped into the bike's path bringing it to a screeching halt.

"Hey punk!" The fat man shouted. "What's your damage? Are you_"

He didn't get a chance to finish the sentence for just then Ant leapt forward and punched him in the throat. The man collapsed to the ground with the bike atop him, clutching his neck and gurgling. The kid followed up by craning his foot back and giving him a solid kick to the face. The fat man's nose snapped with a very audible and sickening crack. _Bleed nigga! Bleed! _ Somewhere behind him a woman screamed. Adrenaline surged through the youth. He quickly hopped over the man and picked up the motorbike. In another second he was astride it.

"Hey you! Freeze!" A loud authoritative voice shouted from the left.

Ant looked up and sure enough across the river of now fast moving traffic there was a police man with a gun drawn trying to cross over to intercept him. _Freeze? Not on your life pig! _ Without wasting another moment he kicked the bike into gear and zoomed down the street.

Within an hour Ant was crossing the gateless entrance into the projects yard. He would have arrived far quicker had prudence not dictated he took indirect route to avoid the pigs. He had not even have enough money to spray over the bike so he would have to dump it soon, it made no sense for him to let it lay around the yard too long. It would just bring unnecessary heat. Ant found himself wondering what the hell was wrong with him. He had just voluntarily committed grand theft auto. Sure he had done so many times but it had _always _been either when he was with the gang in which case he had just acted as an accomplice, or when it had truly been a life or death situation. He had just risked ten years imprisonment to save himself a bit of walking, yet he was not worried or regretful. He must be hanging around Loc too much. _Speaking of which, where is that little bitch? _Ant and Loc had shared the same room for two days then Loc had been released. Thankfully the hard little bastard had not been seriously injured; he mostly had a lot of bruising and a few fractures. He had visited Ant a couple of times along with Bamz but they hadn't been there to pick him up which kind of pissed Ant off. Then again, there was no way they could have known that their friend would be out so early. Ant surveyed the compound looking for signs of his friends. As it was the compound of Ant's building was pretty empty in all directions. It was just after eight thirty two which meant that all the hard working honest people were either at work or on their way to work, and it was still very early for everyone else. There were still a few people milling about though. A group of girls was sitting on the steps leading up to the housing complex and another crowd of people were gathered around the basketball court watching an intense early morning match. Ant gunned the bike into gear and rode over to the girls. He recognized all of them, had had sex with one, and had fingered two others. The thought made him grin.

"Damn baby boy. You rolling deep." One of them called to him standing up. She was tall and quite leggy though a bit flat-chest. She was caramel skin and sported a purple birthmark on her high forehead. She wore her hair in a low afro. Her outfit simply consisted of a black sports bra and a pair of black leggings along with black Charles Tylers. A blue rag was wrapped around her neck proclaiming her allegiance.

"Candi." Ant greeted her with a smile. The two had had a short-lived relationship which ended shortly after Ant had banged her in the back of Loc's car. Miraculously she had forgiving him and the two had been fast friends ever since. "Why the fuck your tired ass ain't at school?"

"Why ain't you?" She countered back. "And who the fuck you calling tired nigga?" Ant laughed and shook his head.

"You seen Loc and them?"

"Not Loc. Don't know where that fool nigga at. But I saw Jazzy and them heading down to the railyard earlier. Don't know what the fuck them niggas be doing over that motha so early though."

"Probably taking ass." One of the other girls quipped up causing all the others to laugh. She was sitting on the steps and more or less had the same complexion of Ant. She sported a hideous red weave and way too much makeup. Her body was wonderful though and the blue tanktop and black leggings she wore highlighted that fact. She went by the name of Koko and was one of the girls Ant had felt up a drunken night at a block party.

"Yah yah whatever." Ant said shaking his head once more in mock despair. He backed the bike up in preparation to move off.

"You leaving already baby?" One of the other girls called. This one was slightly better looking than the rest. Her weave touched her shoulders and was midnight black. Her skin was caramel and her face flawless except for a single mole by her sharp nose. She was dressed in a white tanktop and blue short shorts along with blue charles tylers. Her words were slurred despite the early hour. She had been the second to fall for Ant's charms at the same party however the youth could not recall her name. "You ain't fitting to chill with us?"

"Maybe later." Ant lied. "Got some business with them niggas."

"Ass business I don't know doubt."Cried out Koko who thought herself a comedian. Her friends except for Candi shrieked out with laughter once more. Ant flipped her off and turned his bike around. He gunned it to life and was soon on his way.

The train yard was only a half mile away. It was set up more like a train storage as it sat on the side of the railway instead of on it. Even then the trains no longer passed that rout so the Firefly railway had been forgotten and so had the four carriage trains in it. It was the childhood playground of Ant and his friends as well as many of the other children of Firefly. It had been a haven. The rusting derelict trains were the perfect place for hide and seek and the hard packed red clay was the perfect battleground for mock battles. Over the years as those same children had grown up it had almost become the unofficial gathering ground of the MOB in that area. Besides nostalgic reasons the train yard was perfectly set up to use as such. The yard was enclosed by solid seven feet high fences which kept preying eyes out and it also had easily defendable entrances. Beside that if one stood on any of the four abandoned trains within the yard they would have a clear unimpeded view of the streets in all directions. As Ant approached he could see two lookouts up on the train. That was odd. There was usually never more than one. Ant saw that one of the lookouts was Jazzy. He was wearing a white tees and black jeans along with white hi top Mikes. On his head was a blue Carcer City Unicorns snapback.

"Yo Ant nigga." He called out when Ant approached the train yard gate."You out already? Little Loc left a while ago to visit your busted up ass."

"Whatever bitch." Ant called back as the gate was pulled open from inside. He rode into the courtyard and found it rather crowded. It was as if a tsunami had hit, there was blue everywhere. Pants, shirts, snapbacks, and of course do rags and bandanas. There were at least two dozen gangbangers there. Some conversing in groups, others milling about the trains smoking blunts and drinking from Styrofoam cups or forty ounce bottles. Ant recognized most of the MOB of the Flyhood Rollerz clique and enough that at least two other cliques were present as well. Namely the **Firefly Doughboyz** from Building A, and the **Insane Hustler Killaz** based in the Steinway Housing Project in Dukes.

Whatever was happening had to be major. Gatherings so big seldom happened anymore; it brought way too much heat.

"Hey money, what's popping?" Jazzy called out as he climbed down from the train to join his boyhood companion. "Sexy bike. How the fuck you get out so fast? Loc nigga told me that you was messed up somewhat fierce. The pussyrags took a blade to you huh?"

"Where the fuck was you when shit was going down?" Ant asked sourly not forgetting that Jazzy was supposed to accompany them to the same party. Come to think of it Jazzy hadn't visited him in the hospital either. He slid from the bike and kicked down the stand.

"I should have been there." Jazzy said a look of real sorrow on his face. "I dropped the ball on that one. But I was with my aunty. She a bit under the weather lately. She likes when I'm around...ever since Kalvin died last year."

Ant nodded his head in mute understanding. Kalvin was Jazzy's cousin who was killed by the Hustlerz the previous year. Ant still missed the lively always grinning teen.

"So what's going on?" The youth asked his friend turning his attention back to the festive surroundings. "A party?"

"Homecoming." Jazzy replied simply. "For OG Pen."

"Shit. That nigga got out?" Ant asked interested. Even he knew of OG Pen. The man was a living legend among the MOB everywhere, especially the original ones of the Firefly Projects. He was born and raised there and was one of the original founders of the gang in Liberty City. He had put in more work than anyone else in the history of gang and was rumoured to have a body count in the hundreds. Besides that he had been one of the most prolific drug movers in the city. His success had bought him the life that every young MOB dreamed of. He had vacationed with celebrity Cloe Parker, attended openings with actor Bruce Spade, and had even been praised by rapping legend Mad Dogg in his comeback album _Dogg now Dogg 4ever. _As Ant understood it he had been indicted on tax evasion in 2005.

"Yeah," Jazzy answered with an excited grin. "He's in the trailer with Big Loc and another OG. Having a meeting about some shit. We'll find out soon. Suppose to be major though."

As if on cue the courtyard went quiet. Ant turned around in time to see three men existing from the foremost of the trains. The first looked like an older version of Loc which was right as he was Loc's older brother. He was about Ant's height but looked shorter because of his thickset shoulders and gorilla like arms. He had a sizable stomach which could not be completely hidden under the blue t shirt he wore. Big Loc's head was completely shaven and MOBB was tattooed across the top of his skull. He also sported a well maintained goatee. Like his little brother he was black, a true African American. In addition to the blue tees the OG wore black khakis and brown Hinterland boots. Around his neck was a three inch thick Cuban gold chain. Diamonds glittered at his ears in the early morning sunlight.

The man standing beside him was a stark man was brown skinned and bare-chested thus revealing firmly sculpted abs and chest. His hair was plaited into cornrows and he wore a blue bandana around his lower face and another around his forehead. His only other clothing was a pair of blue stonewashed jeans and white Mike slides. Ant didn't recognize him but assumed he was the OG of one of the other cliques.

The last man was also black rather than brown. He had the bulky muscular build of a weight lifter and his black hair was wavy though tinged with gray. He wore a black undershirt that highlighted his physique and black jeans pants. On his feet was blue Mike hi tops. Hanging from his left back pocket was a blue flag. Every inch of his exposed arms was heavily tattooed with various MOB logos, mottos, and gang signs. A wicked scar ran the width of his nose from one temple to the next, crossing his nose bridge. Another puckered asterisk like scar was on his right cheek.

Though never having seen him before Ant knew at once that this one was OG Pen himself. Pen stepped forward and took from his pocket a minute Ziploc bag of small whitey flake substance. Ant knew exactly what it was. He had lived in the Firefly long enough to recognize crack cocaine when he saw it.

"Look at this shit." Pen said as he held it up for a few seconds so everyone assembled could behold it. Ant noted that the man's voice was rather low toned and raspy yet it was filled with confidence. The OG casually dropped the crack and then crushed down on it with one of his heavy Hinterland boots. He moved his foot side to side grinding it up real good. The previously silent crowd of gangbangers at once began murmuring among themselves.

"Fuck's he doing?" Someone said behind Ant. The youth wondered the exact same thing.

"Its garbage." Pen announced in a loud voice. "Nothing but garbage."

The crowd once again began an uneasy muttering. Ant couldn't help but feel that the man was a hypocrite. It was easy to knock the drugs when you had already made your fortune selling it. He wisely kept his mouth shut.

"This is everything that's wrong with us as a fucking people. As a fucking gang. This fucking crack. Its a black man's public enemy number one. It keeps us divided. Keeps us down." He glared around wildly and once again the murmuring stopped. Everyone was captivated by the legend's words. "We set trip and fuck each other for cents and dime bags. While the fucking pretenders and beaners cut us down from behind and steal our turf from under our nose. It took me another stint inside to finally see it."

Everyone peered at Pen eager intent as they wondered what he was getting at. Ant himself was wondering what change this OG was going to promise. He wasn't that hopeful of the chances of said change occurring. Not if it involved giving up the smack. Sad as it was Ant knew that was almost an impossibility at this point. The drug dealing was too ingrained in the lives of the people around him. It was to them what mana had been to the Israelite of ancient times.

"For those of you who haven't heard yet we just lost another block." OG Pen shouted. The rage in his voice was unmistakable. The anger that those words cause too was visible. At once there was loud curses and shouts. Pen had to raise his voice over the noise.

"Last night the tamponheads pull a run up on Hickock Street. The Hickock High Rollerz were slaughtered. Them mothafuckas even torched the apartment killing some women and kids that didn't have shit to do with anything. " He paused a moment before going on. "Our boys didn't stand a chance. Why? Because the Kid Street Killaz just watched it happen without helping. Why? Because the Rollerz and Killaz were fucking feuding over turf to sell that mothafucking dime bag!"

The man started pacing, glaring passionately at his fellow gangbangers. Ant was strongly reminded of a king talking to his knights. Or a general to his soldiers. That comparison was much more accurate.

"The tampons are bitches but they like cockroaches. They got the numbers to be tripping and still be a threat. We don't. The only way we fitting to survive out here is if we band together like we did in the old days."

There was a shout of approval at that which continued for almost a full thirty seconds. Ant almost felt like joining but managed to refrain from doing so. He kept reminding himself that he wasn't a part of that gang. For some reason it was getting harder and harder to remember that.

"No longer Flyhood Rollerz or Insane Hustler Killaz or Kid Street Killaz. We going to be Ballas once more. MOBB deep! Ballas one and all!"

There were shouts and cheers at that once more. Just then someone tapped Ant's shoulder. The boy spun around to face a rather pissed off looking Loc.

"There your punk ass is." Loc snarled. His left eye was still blue and almost swollen shut and there was shiny bruise on the right side of his face. "Got a nigga stomping around the fucking hospital like a chump. How the fuck you get out so fast anyway?"

"What I said too." Jazzy quipped up.

"Whatever. Doesn't matter." Loc said waving a hand. "Since you better now we can move today."

"Move what?" Asked Ant in total confusion.

"Move on them tampons of course." Loc answered incredulously. "We suppose to take this shit lying down? Hell naw! I know the crib them busters stay at. You down?"

"Hell ya." Ant answered almost before he really thought of it. "Let's do this."

Both Jazzy and Loc gaped at him in surprise. They were expecting protest, excuses, and dissuasions. What they definitely were not expecting was eager agreement. Loc recovered first and a big grin spread over his features.

"My dog." He said holding his knuckles out towards Ant for a fist bump. "Let's do this. You down you busta Jaz?"

"Go fuck yourself." Jaz answered calmly as Ant bumped knuckles with Loc. "But yeah nigga you know I'm always down. Let's do this."

"When we moving?" Ant asked.

"Now." Loc said with another grin as he turned and slipped through the crowd. Without further hesitation Ant followed suit. Jazzy gave the still speaking Pen one more glance before turning around and following his friends.

**((There we go another update. I know its rather nonexistant on the violence but I was saving the bloodbath for the next chapter. :3. If this had been a gta mission the only playable part would have getting from the hospital to the projects, and then the conversation with the girls. The railyard part would have been a complete cutscene until Loc came to fetch you. For clarification now and for future chapters any insult blood-related such as tamponheads, pussyrags, and tampons are insulting terminology for the United Hustlerz Nation which is this fanfics rendition of the United Blood Nation in New York. For some other terminology. ****  
**

**XP-10: This is a highly experimental drug said to have been developed sometime in 1994. Not much about it is known at this time except that it can induce healing at an incredibly rate in humans though it does tend to have nasty yet mostly unspecified side effects. More about this later on. **

**Firefly Doughboyz, Insane Hustlerz Killas: These are more cliques that fly under the Ballas flag. MOB itself stands for Money over Bitches and I've further to add an extra B for Ballas. In the gta universe the Ballas are the in game rendition of the crips so I saw no reason to change that. So you might be seeing MOBB more often now, it stands for the Money over Bullshit Ballas.**


	7. The Hitback

**And I'm back with another exciting instalment here folks. Sorry for the delay, as usual been real retard busy. Luckily summer is soon going to be here and I won't have shit to do but write so hopefully my updates will be much faster then. Anyway a few answers first:**

**Curtisey-Lol. Yeah, OG Pen is partly based on Sweets and partly based on a real life crip that recently returned to my neighbourhood. The crip gangster is mostly preaching the same message except he's mostly saying to stop set-tripping; not much about the drug dealing. Thanks for reading homes, I hope this chapter is blood enough for ya. :3 **

**Native Gunz-Yeah sure feel free to use whatever because I use the hell out of your stuff. Lol. As I mentioned before I was hoping we (You, me, and Stelm) could all collaborate and write in the same continuity, that would make everything so much more awesome. Likewise I understand your reasoning about making the Ballas blood, I do recall seeing them throw up the B sign in San Andreas. But on the other hand they are a purple wearing drug dealing gang with a big sect (Rollin Heights Ballas) in Jefferson (Watts) so they realllly do resemble the Grape St Crips set. I think Rockstar initially blurred the lines so no one could actually say which gang was which seeing as that would be them taking sides on account of the Ballas losing so horribly in the end. I am pro crip though, thumbs up to growing up in crip controlled neighbourhoods and having crip relatives. Heh. That's the reason I chose to write from a crip standpoint. I also took your suggestion to match a face to the characters so then:**

**Ant-Romeo Miller **

**Jazzy- young big Daddy Kane**

**Baby Loc- 16 year old Biggie Smalls**

**Bamz-2 Pac before the shave head **

**Big Loc-Rick Ross without the bushy beard. **

**Officer Gulliano- younger Al Pacino **

**OG Pen-Denzel Washington but just a bit buffer **

**Thanks for reviewing as well homes. Looking forward to your next update as well. Now unto the chapter. xD)) **

Ant took a deep puff off the joint of marijuana before passing it to Jazzy. Both boys were seated in the plush leather backseat of a black Escalante courtesy of Loc. The sleek ride had a sunroof, a cooler filled with **Funkin Screw**, and a mini TV complete with a **LX-30**. Ant's weed hazed brain couldn't help but wonder how the boy found it so fucking easy to get all the best looking cars. It was like he had a sixth sense or something. The thought made him chuckle.

"Fuck you laughing at?" Jazzy murmured glaring at Ant with bloodshot eyes. Ant merely shrugged and returned to staring out the window. Getting along with Jazzy while he was high was like trying to get a white girl to leave you alone after giving her the dick. Totally impossible. Outside the window of the fast moving vehicle the mid-morning setting of the city seemed to blur into one colourful mass of cars, people, and building. The weed in his body gave everything a wonderful lucidity. Life should always make so much sense, Ant thought. He settled back into his seat intent to enjoy the ride for the moment. It was not yet a full hour since he, Jazzy, and Loc had departed from the Firefly train yard on a vengeance mission. They had met Bamz waiting for them in the driver's seat; the older gangster was battered but as eager as ever to put his work in. Ant was glad for that; there was no one better to have in your corner when you were planning to do what they were planning to do. Not surprisingly nobody felt like talking much, driving to commit a murder at least called for one solemn moment. Either that or they were all too high to care that much. Ant deeply suspected that it was the latter.

With nothing better to do he listened to the radio which was tuned in to **WKTT**; mostly because everyone was too preoccupied to switch it than by actual design. Ant gradually got the sense that the two men currently speaking were in the midst of some Indian vs Blacks debate. The voice that was speaking was slow and reflective, each word was perfectly pronounced.

… _I don't doubt African descent people were warriors at all either I don't doubt that but how many blacks from the US actually have any idea what tribe they are from? I know there is a reason why they don't know but we got that same reason all you gotta do is dig a little. If not that, just be Pan African like Malcolm X was. But what i was getting at, was the stereotype people assume is that because many Mexicans are short they assume they could only best a black person if it was six on one. I know for a fact that is bullshit because I've seen it happen one on one I've seen even a small brown woman kick the ass of a black man a foot taller,. Ultimately it boils down to know how more than size._

"Fucking bullshit." Loc snarled from the front passenger seat as he puffed a joint of his own. "That bitch nigga needs to take a walk through the fucking hood. Talking shit about spics and wetbacks facing off to a real nigga. Fucking beaner motherfucker ain't got a clue."

"Not all the eses are bitches though." Bamz piped up as he turned smoothly down a street and slipped between a blue Escalante and an orange Patriot. "I've known a couple that are real solid like. Even them that we beefing with got something up. Them punk ass lords ain't shit. But I would watch the **Eighteenth Street Vagos** and the **Truchas**. Them mothafuckas crazy."

His words were met with a derisive snort from Jazzy and a laugh from Loc.

"Eses aren't worth shit." Loc insisted. "Don't give a fuck who they are. Eighteenth Street, Nineteenth Street, Lords, or Pinta Lovers. Whatever they call themselves."

"Ain't never been no match for real Firefly niggas." Jazzy agreed with a nod of head. As the trio bickered back and forth Ant did his best too tune them out and listen to the radio station. He actually found it very interesting. A different voice was now speaking over the radio. It was deep as a bass and yet oddly cultured, the voice of a well educated black man was unmistakable.

_... I try my very best not to compare ancient injuries but, while i wouldn't say blacks have suffered more than natives, black people have been placed in a more difficult position should they wish to reach back to roots. At least with natives you were never displaced by almost half a world. You still mostly remained on your own land which makes it much easier to keep heritage. Africans were moved to the americas and kept there long enough to forget about any other home. Then people try to gather steam with the whole back to africa movement but as mother use to say home is where you comfortably lay your head. if ten generations of your family has made america their home you would have to be a very exceptional person to pick yourself up and return to africa. _

Ant found himself nodding his head in agreement to that statement. Damn straight. You couldn't pay him to go to Africa and in his mind he didn't see why anyone in their right mind would willingly go there. It was a godforsaken place if the news was to belief. Filled with warfare, starvation, and sickness. Come to think of it Africa was not that much different than Bohan on a Saturday night. But still the youth had a hard time wrapping his mind around the concept of Africa as a homeland. He respected the efforts of those back to Africa movement activists but it wasn't for him. The first voice that Ant now identified as the Indian was speaking once again.

_You have a point in that many of us can still learn our language though and that is one way we have more advantages I'm glad you respectfully used that as your basis rather than the casinos or the so called free money or reparation checks that whites, blacks, Asians and Arabs all seem to think we get when really only a few actually do and hell not even all of us are enrolled. I am not because i believe it is BS we are the only race that has to carry a card to prove it._

_If you got a proud heritage you want to preserve it right? Especially with my people like that is one difference though that while we do live here, the whites did just as much to destroy the language and the culture. Haven't you ever heard the saying Destroy The Indian Save The Man? That means assimilation. And when you consider that 95% of our race was wiped out, while this is not oppression olympics, that means we saw a level of genocide that topped not only the slave trade but also even the Holocaust. _

Just then there was a little jingle and a new drawling voice that Ant instantly hated took the center stage.

…_.And once again we are live in studio with well respected Native American Historian and Chairman of the Society for Native Betterment Chief Stand-With-A-Gun. With him is Dr. Harrison Rivers, ph.d in American History and leader of the Brothers for A Better Tomorrow. We will return to this segment of __**Jerry Morgan Show **__after these messages….._

"Man fuck this cracker shit." Loc said changing the radio station. "When the fuck did this turn into **Horseneck Ridge**. Get some sounds bumping in this bitch."

Ant considered telling the young gangster to switch it back but quickly decided the disdain of his peers wasn't really worth it. He made a mental note to follow up on that interview however, it was very good stuff. Loc inevitably changed the radio to the Beat 102.7. At once the sound of "BMF" by Rick Ross resounded around the vehicle.

"That's what I'm talking about." Jazzy exclaimed. "One nation under god/ real niggas getting money from the fucking start!"

The three others in the car beside Ant sang along to the sound of tune. Ant found himself staring out the window once again; this time as he was examining his feelings. Once again he marvelled at the change that had slowly overcome him. He remembered, once upon a time the thought of murder would have had him shaking and maybe even puking his guts out but now here he was not only thinking about murdering someone but indeed on his way to make good on the thought in the company of three other known killers. Despite this he wasn't in the least bit scared, sure he was a bit nervous but it was not the mind-numbing terror that he knew he should be feeling, in a way he almost felt _excited. _What the devil had they done to him in that hospital?!

"Here we are." Bamz announced with a flourish as he turned from Saratoga Ave unto Deadeye St. Here Bamz began slowing down. They were in the lower half of Beachwood City which was had long been a Hustlerz stronghold. The transition into the ghetto was almost mindboggling. Here the streets were potholed and the sidewalks cracked. Most of the streetlamps visible were broken and the traffic signs heavily gratified; as were the walls of a majority of the decrepit one story and two story buildings that were now in sight. Pedestrians walked quickly eyes alert and scowls implemented firmly on their faces. It was obvious this was not a place where the average man stopped for a friendly chat on the street.

"Gear up boys." Bamz ordered as he brought the vehicle to a cruise. They were officially hunting now. Loc took up a large military like knapsack that he had had at his feet. He rummaged within it for a few seconds and when he emerged his head was covered by a stocking mask and he held a black battered looking Micro-Uzzi.

"I'm a kill me some tamponheads today." Loc said in an overly gleeful tone which almost caused Ant to shudder. The chubby gangster heisted the bag to the backseat where it was eagerly caught up by Jazzy. After a few seconds digging Jazzy also emerged with a stocking mask; but the weapon that he pulled out was a sawn off double barrel shotgun. The shotgun also looked the worst for wear, the stocking was cracked and the barrel slightly rusted. Ant couldn't help but wonder if Loc had dug the guns out of a trash heap. At the very least he had definitely got them for a bargain. Cheap ass.

"Hurry up fool." Jazzy snapped at Ant as he tied his blue bandana around his neck making it clearly visible. It clashed horribly with the stocking mask, Ant noted. The youth reached forward and took the bag for himself. He scavenged what was left which was another stocking mask, a combat knife with the handle replaced with duct tape, and a dull chrome glock 22 handgun. After fumbling around and praying the gun didn't discharge Ant managed to check the clip, he saw that it was filled with all seventeen rounds. Further searching in the dusty bottom of the knapsack yielded him a further ten rounds which he slipped into his pants pocket. Ant then slipped the stocking mask over his face and placed the knife in waistband. He held onto the ground as if though his life depended on it, thinking about it his life did depend on it.

"There are some pussyrags now." Bamz pointed out. He hadn't done too much to hide his features, merely pulled his blue snapback down low over his forehead. In his lap was a Micro-Uzi similar to Loc's one but in better condition. Ant's gaze followed the direction that Bamz was staring. It led his gaze straight to a rundown looking two story apartment. A three step led from the sidewalk to the dingy front door of the building; on that step was a gaggle of Hustlerz. Six in total. They sat or stood on the steps drinking from paper bags, smoking blunts, and throwing out comments to any passing females. With a shock Ant thought he even recognized one of them as one of the assailants that had been stomping on Loc. Bamz calmly drove past the gang of enemies, Ant watched with baited breath but the group paid the Escalante little mind. It stood out no more than any of the other cars that were currently traversing the street. Soon the vehicle was around a curb and out of sight. Bamz at once put his foot down, swerving between a red Cavalcade and then rolling unto sidewalk. He then knocked over a garbage can and caused an old man to leap aside to avoid getting crush.

"Lets do this." Jazzy said pumping shells into his shotgun. "Mobb deep."

"I'm a make it rain on them fools." Loc said softly holding up his uzzi.

Ant said nothing and merely gripped his pistol tightly as Bamz guided the car around the block and then once again coming unto Deadeye St. He gently drove up alongside the group before slowing the car down to a creep. It only took the Hustlerz a few seconds to realize what was about to happen but that was a few seconds too long.

"DRIVEBY!" One of them bellowed. He was bare-chested and wore a red do-rag around the neck much in the same fashion as Jazzy. "HIT THE DECK!"

"BOW DOWN LITTLE BITCHES!" Loc screamed out rising up out of the sunroof like a spirit of death. He had hardly levelled his Uzzi when he pulled the trigger. A thunderstorm of lead sprayed the vicinity of the apartment steps. At once the street exploded into pandemonium. Screams and shouts resounded around the street, overlapping with the sound of screeching car tires. Pedestrians ran in all direction to escape the fire. Loc moved his arm to and fro in an arc to maximise the carnage.

"**HK** ALL DAY!"

The enemy that had shouted the warning was cut down at once, he slumped to the pavement his body riddled with rounds form Loc's uzi. His closest companion who was also bare-chested and wearing a red bandana around his forehead made to draw a pistol from his waistband but another rain of bullets from Loc's gun quickly put a stop to that. The remaining gangbanger were scattering in all directions. One of them hadn't made two steps when a slug from Bamz's pistol took him straight in the stomach and planted him firmly on the ground. Another leapt beside the railing of the steps, and the last remaining tried to sprint into the apartment. Unfortunately the door was locked, the man screamed and banged on the door for a second before shells from two guns tore into his back and sent him straight to hell. With a guttural howl of his own Ant leaned over Jazzy's shoulder, aimed his gun through the window, and pulled the trigger. He was aiming at the gangbanger who had managed to take cover beside the step, the cement railing protecting him from Loc's and Bamz's bullets but he was fair game to the MOB's in the backseat. From his position Ant managed to clip him twice in the shoulder, with a yelp the man staggered from his hiding spot and tried to run off. A quick shot to the back of the head from Bamz's pistol put him down good.

"Die niggas! Die!" Loc shouted as he switched out his now empty clip for a new one. He looked around for more Hustlerz but the only one still breathing was whimpering on the dirty pavement, blood pumping from his stomach. A burst from Loc's automatic sent three hot slugs into his head and shoulders silencing him forever.

Just then the apartment door opened and a man wearing a red Warthog snapback over his dreadlocks stepped out glaring. His eyes widened at the scene and he at once ducked back into the apartment. Jazzy's shotgun roared and almost deafened Ant in the process. Pellets peppered the doorway but missed the man by inches.

"I know that kat!" Bamz snarled. "Big Tyke. Mothafucka Hustlerz **royalty**!"

"Come on Ant!" Loc shouted as he climbed out of the sunroof and dropped lightly to the street. "Jazzy! Scrape what you can from them dead fucks then keep a lookout! Me and Ant are going after that mothafucka. Let's go!"

Ant exited the vehicle a second after Loc and the two at once sprinted up the steps heading for the open door of the apartment.

Ant was just inches behind Loc upon entering the building. The duo quickly made their way down a short hallway without trouble. There were two doors on each side and at the end of the hallway there was a step going up. The hallway was heavily graphitized with the Hustlerz Nation motif and it was filthy. Cups, plates, needles, and other garbage littered the hardwood floor which was already stained with blood and worst. The smell was almost just as bad. From somewhere there was the muffled sound of music.

"He went up." Loc said pointing out the discarded red snapback which lay at the foot of the steps. The young gangster quickly made the climb with Ant in tow. At the top of the stairs Loc froze and leapt backwards, almost bowling his companion over. A second later the wall beside the step where he had just been standing exploded, peppering the two friends with wood silvers and showering them with dust. The loud din of an assault rifle resounded a millisecond later.

"You're dead you **bluebottle** bitches!" A deranged voice screamed out. The gunfire had stop but there was the sound of footsteps on the hardwood floor.

"Fucking stinkflies coming out here shooting up the block I'll kill you all!" Another voice shouted. Ant knew that they were heading towards the step and judging from the sound of their firepower they would make short work of the MOB boys.

"We've got to bail." Ant said. "They've got the high ground and the big guns."

"I've got this." Loc said with a nasty smile. He then reached into his pocket and came out with a fucking Molotov cocktail. _He keeps that in his pocket?! What is he stupid? _More and more Ant was getting the feeling that the young chubby gangster was completely insane. More insane than he was before that is. Loc pulled out a lighter and lit the short fuse. Then he tossed it unto the second floor where it landed out of sight with the tinkling sound of broken glass and then the whoosh of fire ignited. At once the footsteps stopped and then there was the sound of terrified and pain filled screams.

"Burn bitches!" Loc shouted. "Burn!"

He once again rushed up the steps with Ant before him. The second floor was no better than the last. In fact it was significantly worst because of the fire which engulfed the floors and the walls as well as two men clutching AK-47 assault rifles. The unfortunate men rushed about resembling humanoid torches. Ant raised his gun and quickly down one with two shots to the body, Loc killed the other with a burst of bullets.

"Smooth move genius." Ant snarled as the flames raged all about them, it was quickly intensifying. The smoke was already getting to him and he was forcing back a cough.

"Stop bitching and lets move!"

Loc barrelled down the hallway and shaking his head Ant once again followed. He was just passing a door when it flew open and something tackled him; slamming him heavily unto the opposite wall. The smell of sweat and marijuana assaulted his nostrils at the same time a rough calloused hand gripped him tightly about the throat cutting off all circulation. From somewhere to the side he heard the sound of gunfire which informed him that Loc was preoccupied. Ant was on his own. The youth gave a strangled gasp and tried to bring his gun around but another hand seized him by the wrist immobilizing it. Ant squeezed the trigger twice, sending two bullets harmlessly into the floor. His hand was then slammed back with bone jarring force into the wall behind him. Once. Twice. On the third time the youth's hand was so numb he was forced to drop the gun. Ant looked up then and caught a glimpse of broad features, bleary red eyes, a bulbous nose, and a long unkempt goatee. Whoever the man was he was strong. He physically raised Ant up off the ground all the while increasing the crushing pressure he was applying to the youth's throat.

"Bluebottle mothafucka." The man said in a gruff voice. "Now you die!"

Ant knew that unless he did something within the next couple seconds the man's words would proof prophetic. Already darkness was swimming on the edge of his vision. With his free hand Ant clumsily grabbed the knife from his waistband, where it was hidden under his shirt. Clutching it tightly he jerked it upwards until he had slashed the strangler jaggedly across the bottom of the arm he was using to clutch Ant's throat. At once the Hustlerz stumbled back with a scream of pain, blood streaming from his arm. Ant took a deep breath of air before rushing forward. He was by no means done. A haze of red washed over him as he slashed back and forth with his knife turning the man's torso to ribbons. When the enemy gangbanger fell Ant jumped upon him like a rabid animal, plunging the knife into his body over and over again. He didn't stop until the man had stop convulsing and was utterly still. The youth stood up drenched in blood and gasping for breath.

The sounds of gunshots were still resounding throughout the building signalling to Ant that his friend was still in combat. Others sounds were now joining the symphony of chaos; screams from terrified women, wails from scared children, pounding footsteps, and the shouts of enraged men. Underlying all of this was the gleeful cackle of the ever growing flames. Ant shook his head and seized up his fallen pistol. His bruised hand was throbbing in time with his head but he couldn't stop now, Loc sounded like he could use help. The youth sprinted down the hallway. On the way he passed two Hustlerz bodies that were still pooling blood. Loc had been busy. He found the young gangster towards the end of the hallway. Loc was flattened against the wall beside the last apartment door which had been viciously kicked open. As Ant watched the chubby gangster stuck his hand into the doorway and blind fired before quickly withdrawing his hand; just a half second later the booming of a shotgun answered causing Ant to inadvertently flinch back.

"Where the fuck you been?" Loc demanded once again blind-firing around the corner.

"Fighting for my life while you here playing hide and seek." Ant retorted.

"Nigga fuck you! I got the mothafucka pinned down in there. His ass is mine."

Just then there was the breaking sound of glass. Loc jumped as if he had been stung.

"Little bitch making a run for it!" He shouted as he rushed into the room. Ant quickly followed. Sure enough the man that Bamz had called Big Tyke was halfway through the window, one foot hanging over midair and the other planted in the apartment. As one both Ant and Loc leveled their weapons upon him. He looked up with pure undiluted fear in his eyes.

"See you in hell!" Loc called before he and his friend simultaneously pulled the trigger. The apartment resounded with the shots from two guns; the quick 'rat-tat-tat' of the Uzzi and the solid 'bang-bang' of the glock. The Hustlerz gangster shuddered as bullet after bullet tore into his body until finally the excess force knocked him clean through the window. He limply fell the twenty feet and slammed into the pavement with a sickening thud.

"We've got to bail now." Ant said at once, for once Loc agreed without complaint. The crackle of flames had turned into a loud roar and smoke was slowly filling the room. The duo rushed back to the door and to their horror they saw that the end of the hallway was already engulfed, cutting off their exit.

"We're fucking trapped." Loc stated unnecessarily. "Trapped!"

Ant ran back to the single window and peered out. Twenty feet below them there was only a dark empty alleyway between the walls of the apartment building and that of the much lower house which was beside it. There was nobody in sight except the late Big Tyke who lay in a broken and bloody heap. That was way too far to fall. They would either fall and die or fall and be incapacitated until either the police or the Hustlerz stumbled across them; just that thought was enough to make Ant shiver with dread. Neither could they stay in the apartment though, burning to death was little better. Just then Ant realized their salvation.

"Come on." He told Loc. The boy then stuck the gun into the back of his pants before clambering through the window.

"You insane man? We can't fall that!"

"Shut up and come on!"

Ant made his way through the window, only hanging unto the sill with one hand. He winced and forced himself not to cry out as the broken glass of the window cut deeply into his palm. Slowly Ant braced his feet against the building wall and then before he could think about it the youth released his grip upon the sill while simultaneously kicking off with his feet. He hurtled through the air for a second like some great ungainly cannon ball and then slammed heavily into the zinc roof of the adjoining building. He lay stunned and winded but within a few moments the youth felt ten times worst as Loc crashed down upon him almost knocking him unconscious.

"Urgghhh."

"Sorry men." Loc mumbled rolling off his companion.

"Urghhh!"

Ant felt as if though his ribs were cracked. The fat bastard definitely wouldn't be hurt by skipping a meal or two.

"Come on fool! No time to be lying around. We got to get the fuck out of here."

"You fat bumbling son of a...urghh!"

"Get your punk ass up nigga! We've got to roll!"

Ant slowly made it to his feet wincing all the way. His ribs were definitely bruised. The youth glared at Loc who pointedly ignored him. In the distance there was the sound of sirens, it was rapidly approaching. It was time to go. Loc turned and sprinted across the rooftop. Ant gave one more look at the completely engulfed apartment then he turned and followed.

**((This brings us to the end of another chapter. Here's to Ant's gang cherry getting busted! xD. Unto the parodies/spoofs/terminology. **

**Funkin Screw-Parody of Mountain Dew created by Metal Harbringer. **

**LX30-Parody of the PS3 created by Stelm. **

**WKTT-We Know the Truth radio station created by rockstar.**

**The Jerry Morgan Show-Radio show that I based from a local radio and TV show in my radio called Lik Road. They're always debating racial and political issues.**

**Horseneck Ridge-Spoof of the infamous homoerotic movie Brokeback Mountain. **

**Bluebottles/Stinkflies-Disrespectful terms for MOB/Ballas gangsters, compares them to bluebottle flies. **

**HK- Short for Hustlerz Killas. **

**Royalty-Someone that's high up in a gang. Not necessarily an OG. **

**Truchas- Gang created by Native Gunz based on the MS-13**

**Eighteenth Street Vagos- Gang created by Native Gunz based on the actual 18****th**** St Hispanic gang. Anyone wishing to read more about them I'd recommend checking out Native Gunz real awesome fanfic Cross Fire. **

**The debate played out on the radio station is actually directly extracted from a conversation between Native Gunz and myself. To elaborate further its basically a debate between the two of us about who would win in a one on one fight between a black person and a Mexican, the reasons why, and then a couple reasons why both races are fucked up the way they are right now. In the conversation Native Gunz is naturally chief Stands-with-a-gun and I am Dr. Harrison Rivers. **

**Anyway that's all until my next update folks. Stay tune, read, and review. Love ya'll. xD))**


	8. One Way In One Way Out

**I'm back with another exciting installment folks. See I didn't take a lifetime this time. Ha. I actually wrote this chapter months ago, originally it was suppose to be like chapter three. I've had to tweak it a little bit to fit in with the continuity but it stays true to the original. To answer a few comments: **

**Stelm: You just watched Menace II Society? You're a bit late aren't you. lol. That's my all time favorite gangster movie ever, I take a lot of inspiration from it truth be tell. My character Bamz is actually based from A Wax. You know, a veteran banger who done been through it all and rolls with the crew and acts like a guide/role-model. About the collab thing end of summer will be great because I'm a be caught up during summer break as well. I just got a message from Gunz about that as well and I'm a PM ya it later. Ya I'm following gta 5 religiously, everyday I Google and see if something new gets out. One of the main reasons I'm getting a summer job is to get a new ps3 (mine's finally giving out, shutting off random like and shit) just so I can get gta 5. I can hardly wait. **

**Curtisy: Thanks homie, hope you don't mind me making you's into a minor character. :D **

**Native Gunz: Heh. Loc just said that because he was being ignorant. He has no use for deep philosophical discussion about race and shit like that. He considers all of that on a whole as white man stuff. All he really cares about is his hood, money, and bitches. In that order. Bamz is just speaking from experience though, he don't necessarily have anymore love for the latin gangs than Loc just that he been around long enough to learn they ain't all weak. **

**And quick correction, Loc is visually inspired by the teenage version Biggie Smalls. His brother Big Loc is the one visually inspired by Officer Rickey. lol. I recently saw a spoof picture of the two together and though they minus Ross's beard they could really pass for brothers at least visually. I know Rick Ross a fake ass nigga that probably ain't never seen more than an ounce of cocaine in his life but I still think he got major talent. I really got into listening to him since his Rich Forever mixtape, that shit was tight. You heard how the Gangster Disciples trying to extort him for using the star of David on his Black Bar Mitzvah mixtape cover and for mentioning Larry Hover in his lyrics? Still though, a lot of Ant's major missions going to be based from some of his songs. heh**

**Yeah, It was Harbringer that brought me into GTA mood though. Back in the day I only logged on specifically to read GTA: Rushmore City. He's got a real knack for it, pity he hasn't been updating recently though. I really want to see how that shit ends.**

**For confirmation yes in this fic The United Hustlerz Nation are based from the United Blood Nation of New York. The MOB (Money over Bitches) are crips and in this instance they will often be stylized as MOBB (Money over Bitches Ballaz). **

**Anyway enough chit-chat. Unto the story! xD  
**

_Loc's Apartment _

"Come on little bitch." Loc snarled. "I'm a wear your ass out."

"Not a chance fool." Ant retorted. "I own you!"

The two boys wasted no further time on words as their fingers blurred over their respective **LX-30 **controllers while both pair of eyes were glued unto the big screen television. They were locked in a game of **Alleyway Boxer**, both using the iconic poster boys for the video game. Ant was playing as **Yun **and Loc was playing as **Ben**. They cursed and cheered reflective of their prowess as they burnt through match after match. The door to the apartment creaked open and Big Loc entered.

"Though I'd find your asses here. This is what you been up to?" The older gangster said mockingly. "Locked up in a room playing video games. What are you, queers?"

"Fuck you." Loc answered nonchalantly as he smashed in another button combination; leading his character to perform a combo attack.

"Penn wants to see you two." Big Loc announced. "He's waiting down in apartment twenty four in Building D."

Both Ant and Loc slammed down on the pause button simultaneously. They exchanged a look then gaped at Big Loc but the OG was already moving into the kitchen.

"What you mean?" Loc asked slowly. "What you mean Penn wants to see us?"

"Just the way I said it little nigga." Big Loc called back over the sound of the refrigerator opening. "Apartment twenty four. Get over there. Now."

Ant knew well enough what this was about. It was only a day after their attack on the Hustlerz apartment. The media had covered the attack extensively already. Naturally following it had something to do with that. The fact that Penn wanted to see them could be either really good or really bad.

"Come on lets go." Loc said standing up and walking over to switch off the TV. "We don't want to keep the man waiting."

"Wonder what he wants though." Ant said uncertainly as he moved over to the door.

"We'll find out in a while I'm sure." Loc predicted walking over to join Ant by the door. He began rummaging in his pants pocket. "By the way been meaning to give this to you."

He withdrew a small **Whizz Wireless** flip phone and presented it with a flourish.

"Never understand how you went so long without a fucking phone. It's the twenty first century men get with it. Here you go, took this off one of them tampons we slaughtered. The spoils of war my nigga."

Loc laughed heartily as he handed Ant the phone but Ant felt a bit guilty accepting it. He viciously quashed down on the feeling however, as Loc said it was indeed the spoils of war. Together the two exited Loc's apartment and began the long journey towards Building D.

"_This is Diane Robinson for Weasel 21 and we come to you with an update on yesterday's lethal attack on the Hillman Apartments on Deadeye Street, South Broker. As we reported earlier, the apartment was the scene of a vicious shootout and arson. Reports of the perpetrators of this heinous act remains sketchy but according to eyewitness testimony four heavily armed masked men in an SUV arrived on the scene guns blazing as if though they were in an __**Jack Howitzer**__ movie._

_Preliminary findings are still trickling out from police but the official report lists the dead at twenty five, with the fire also displacing ten families. Notable also is the confirmation of the apartment as a known hangout spot for the local Hustlerz gang. It seems that this is just another blow in the increasingly bloody and violent war between rival street gangs. Deputy Commissioner Francis McReary made a statement today where_" _

Ant couldn't help but feel a twinge of nervousness when OG Penn bent and switched off the battery radio which was at his feet. The older man then turned to face them. His expression was inscrutable. Ant shifted uncomfortably. He was in apartment twenty four of D building in the Firefly Projects. It was the last of the four buildings and it was the most forlorn, neglected, and abandoned. Even the dope fiends shunned that particularly building and Ant himself had only been in there a couple of times in the brave exploratory days of late childhood though he had not explored any of the apartments. If the apartment that they were in now was anything to judge from then Ant had not been missing much. Like everywhere else in the Firefly Projects the place reeked of poverty, but more so than any other of the apartments. Cracked walls, cracked window, filth caked floors, and the ever present scent of urine and despair to top it all off. Where they should have been a light bulb there was only an empty socket so the only source of illumination came from the half open window, giving everything an even more dismal air if possible.

Ant was seated on the only chair in the place, a straight back metal folding chair. Loc leaned against the wall off to Ant's left, he had his arms folded and his foot braced behind him in what would have been a comical wannabe gangster pose for anyone else; but the chubby gangster's fierce scowl definitely lent it a genuine air. Sitting on an upended crate beside Loc was Jazzy; the youth looked almost as queasy as Ant felt. Bamz was the only one who looked completely calm. The older gangbanger stood a little distance off to Ant's right. As always when he stood his posture was just a little bit stooped and his hands were clasped with fingers laced. The more Ant thought of it the more he was thinking he didn't want to be there. He wanted to go home to his own apartment. He was still tired mentally and physically, his body was still bruised and aching. Ant imagined he could still feel the heat and the smoke in his throat from the blazing memories of the previous day would haunt him for life. They had narrowly managed to escape death by jumping unto the roof an adjoining building. After that they had descended a rickety ladder, scaled a chain link fence, ditched their masks, sprint through a couple of yards occasionally scaling more fences, hijacked a car, and drive their way back to the relative safety of Firefly. Ant had returned to his apartment shaken but glad to be alive. He had taken a long shower then climbed into bed to sleep for the rest of the day and most of the night.

Ant wondered what Penn would tell them. It was definitely in relation to the crime they had committed but was he going to commend them, reprimand them, or order their deaths? He really hoped that the last was not on the table.

"You niggas did good." Penn finally said. Ant almost sighed with relieve at that. "I like the way that you take care of business. We one up on them fucking wannabe busters. Level the scales a little cause them mothafuckas really been getting into it with us."

"This is just the start." Loc promised grimly.

"Yeah we'll pay them tampons back. With interest too." Jazzy quipped up.

"Good that's what I like to hear." Penn said with a chortle. "Good to know we still gots MOBB with fire in their blood. I swear that since I been gone bustas and bitches took over. Good to know we still got a couple of real niggas though. No more of this **Evacuator **bullshit way of doing things though. If we going to win this war and put the pussy rags down once and for all we've got to be smart."

"I agree with that," Bamz said. "They outnumber us so our only chance is to be more organized."

"Damn straight." Agreed Penn with a nod of head. "I've been looking for a couple solid niggas to do a little job for me since I'm still suppose to be on house arrest. I think I found what I'm looking for but first something's got to be done."

Here he turned a hard glance upon Ant causing the youth to instantly go on guard.

"Anfernee is it? Anfernee Lawrence that's your name?"

"Yeah it is." Ant replied cautiously.

"You make me nervous Ant." Penn told the youth grimly. Ant couldn't help but gape. He didn't see how anything that he could do would make the word renowned OG nervous. Penn was probably just making a joke.

"Yeah I'm serious. You make me nervous because I don't know where you stand. You're jumping back and forth over the fence and in this life that's a very bad thing, eventually you'll skew on a fence stake."

Ant looked at him uncomprehendingly even though he had a sinking feeling of where this was going.

"Yeah I've heard of you. You're rolling with the team even though you ain't an official member of the MOB. That's the stupidest thing that I've ever heard." Here Penn glared at Bamz."I can't believe that you allowed this."

Bamz clenched his mouth tightly but made no comment. Ant held his head down as thoughts whirred through his mind. This had forever been a point of consternation between him and his friends. Technically he was not a part of the MOB, and he had never aspired to be. He had never needed to be because even though he was not a part of the gang he was still a friend. He would die for anyone of them as he knew they would for him. In the past each of the three men had tried to get him to join the gang formerly but Ant had always refused. Despite all facts to the contrary he did not see himself as a gangbanger, and he still didn't want to be a gangbanger. Or did he? Ant fidgeted as he searched his feelings. Did he still want to go to college? Get a degree? Settle down and be a lawyer? Over the past couple weeks so much has changed. He was not the same Anfernee Lawrence that he had been before.

"This can't continue kid." Penn went on. "That's one thing I'm bringing back from the old school days. We don't involve civilians. Wars are fought by soldiers."

"Ant is a soldier."Bamz said quickly. He walked forward until he was standing alongside Ant and placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "He done put in more work than half the niggas in these projects."

Ant felt a flush of warmth and pride at that statement. He knew that the praise was not lightly given and would not have been uttered unless Bamz honestly thought that of him.

"Yeah the homie put it down like a real MOBB." Jazzy added.

"He a real whatever type nigga." Loc said. "Down for anything."

Penn looked from one face to the other; his keen eyes like great search lights. His eyes settled on Ant for the longest, the youth got the distinct feeling of being sized up as if though he was a piece of meat.

"You all vouch for him?" OG Penn asked slowly.

"Yes." The three MOBB answered as one.

"Then I'm prepared to let you into the family." Penn said looking directly at Ant. "But this is going to be one of the biggest decisions you ever make kid. Don't go jumping into it. Be sure this is what you really want."

Penn stepped forward until he was only inches away from Ant. The look in his eyes was a haunted one as he continued.

"You could walk out of this room right now. You could go on to college, get a job, get out of the hood. None of us will look down at you."

At that Ant mentally snorted. _Yeah right, like Loc would ever let me live that down._ He thought.

"Hell we would even be happy for you. Because when you enter this life, when you enter this life you give that up. There's one way in…and there's only really one way out."

_Death, _thought Ant grimly. That's one of the two places where it would end. Eventually he would end up in a grave or a cell. Was that what he really wanted? NO, of course not. Except…Ant's head was whirling. He stared down at the ground between his feet as he tried to gather his thoughts. He felt as if though he was on a roller coaster that had already started moving, he wanted off but there was no way off. Only thing he could do was to enjoy the ride and see it out to the end. Four pairs of eyes watched Ant intently as he raised his eyes from the floor.

"I'll do it."

Penn looked at him searchingly for a few more seconds before he smiled a bit coldly and said,

"Aight then. Now we just need to **put you on the hood.**"

Ant stood on the cracked and sandy ground of the Firefly train yard. Over head the midday sun shone brightly causing a thin sheen of perspiration on the youth; he knew that in just a few more seconds that sweat would quickly be mixed with blood. At least two dozen other men and woman all wearing some article of purple or blue were in attendance; drinking, smoking, cracking jokes, or just being rowdy as they waited for the action to start. Ant was nervous the way that any sane person would be nervous with the knowledge of imminent danger but he was determined not to show any sort of fear. The people around him were best described as wolves; they deplored weakness and only respected strength. Ant was determined to make a good first impression.

He watched as a crowd of men began assembling directly before him. Six in total; Jazzy, Bamz, and Loc were at the forefront. But along with them was a man Ant recognized as Big Troy. Like Loc he was built on the big side and had a very noticeable protruding gut. He also had cornrow dreads and a nasty collection of scars on his face. Troy wore a purple hoody over a blue shirt along with a matching blue and purple snapback, black stonewashed jeans, and blue Mikes. Standing beside Troy was Jordan, he was Bamz younger half brother. The dark-skinned slightly built kid was two year younger than Ant but already a well respected member of MOB. He was dressed in a simple black tees, along with black jeans and white Mikes. His blue bandana was wrapped around his forehead. He gave Ant a smile and punched his open palm with a clenched fist. The last man in the line-up was Curtsey. The name in no way captured the man. He was a hulking bruiser, standing at six foot and weighting at least two hundred and ten pounds. Burt wore a purple tanktop, black khakis, and black Hinterland boots. His blue rag hung from his left pocket. Now Ant felt the real tinges of fear. This was going to hurt plenty.

Ant watched as Penn stepped forward from the crowd and looked at his watch.

"Thirty seconds." Penn announced. "Go!"

At once the crew of six men rushed Ant, moving in like hungry hyenas that had spotted a downed zebra. The surrounding audience cheered loudly and began shouting advice and insults in equal measures. Ant took a deep breath and then leapt forward to meet them with equal ferocity. Loc was the first to make contact. The youth grinned at Ant as he swung a vicious right handed punch at his friend's head; Ant ducked under the blow and threw all his weight behind a solid left hook to Loc's side. It connected with a meaty thud. The younger gangster gasped and staggered but before Ant could press his attack pain exploded in the side of his face.

He backpedaled as Jazzy stepped into him already throwing another vicious jab, Ant knocked the punch away with a forearm and kicked Jazzy directly in between the legs. _No marquis of queensberry rules here, _he though vindictively as his friend understandably curled in on himself with labored breathing; all thoughts of violence momentarily displaced by mind wrenching pain. Just then Bamz attacked him from the left while Troy attacked from the right. Ant backed up. Utilizing all of his sparse boxing skills he bobbed and weaved and threw punches for all he was worth, it was the only thing he could do to keep from being overwhelmed as the two experienced scrappers closed in upon. Troy managed to give Ant a vicious punch directly beneath the ribs which almost paralyzed the youth with pain but he forced himself to keep moving. He slammed a quick two hit combo into the big gangster's gut but to no other effect than leaving himself open for a strong right hand from Bamz. Out of the corner of his eyes Ant could see Jazzy and Loc coming for him with anger in their eyes. Just then something slammed into the back of Ant's head causing his vision to go fuzzy as pain wracked his body.

He fell to one knee and then a vicious punch to the jaw from Curtsey got him on the ground completely. All six men closed in on Ant reigning down a barrage of kicks and punches. Ant struggled to his knees once more, he was not through yet. Far from it. Ignoring another heavy punch to the head Ant lurched forward and tackled Jordan to the ground. The two of them fell in a confused heap of striking limbs. Ant drove his knee into the youngster's groin while simultaneously head butting him right on the nose. An arm looped around Ant's neck and dragged him off the youth and unto his feet. The person exerted more pressure, cutting off Ant's circulation. Jazzy came forward and viciously punched Ant in the groin, returning the favor. Pain wracked Ant's body causing him to convulse violently. Holy mother of god that hurt! Bamz came forward his fist raised and ready to inflict some more damage but with his remaining strength Ant kicked out with all his might and struck the older gangster in the belly causing him to back up. Ant then elbowed the person holding him in the stranglehold with all his might. His elbow connected heavily with some ribs and the person's grip loosened a fraction, more than enough for Ant to jerked forward and free himself.

Before he could do anything however Jordan came forward quickly and drove a fist directly into Ant's stomach. Curtsey then picked him up from behind and bodily slammed him back into the ground. Ant lay winded and before he could catch his breath blows were once again being rained down upon him from all directions.

"Time!" Penn called loudly. "I said time!"

The blows stopped and Ant looked up dazedly as Penn stepped into sight and grinned down at him. Pain racked his body making it hard for the youth to focus.

"Blood in blood out." Penn said. "Welcome to the family kid."

Ant found that his breathing was pained indicting bruised ribs at the very least. Beside that he was having a hard time seeing out of his left eye and did not need a doctor to tell him it was already swelling shut. Burt and Jazzy helped him to his feet.

"Not bad kid." Burt told him slapping him so hard on the back that he almost fell to the ground once more. "Not bad at all."

"You ain't such a little bitch after all." Loc quipped up.

Ant spit out a gob of blood and smiled slightly. He was into it now, for good or for bad.

**There we have it folks. Ant is officially a member of the MOBB. Yay for him. For confirmation yes he has just been jumped in. Now unto a few spoofs and terminologies: **

**LX-30: parody of the Xbox created by Stelm. **

**Alleyway Brawlers: Spoof of Street Fighters.**

**Yun and Ben: parody of the street fighters famous duo Ryu and Ken respectively. **

**Whizz Wireless: Phone company created by Rockstar, think its base on Verizon. **

**Jack Howitzer: Grand theft auto actor, parody of Arnold Schwarzenegger/Sylvester Stallone. **

**Evacuator: Rockstar created movie parody of Rambo. **

**'put you on the hood': Another term for being jumped into a gang. **

**Buster: Street slange for A punk ass bitch.**

**Okay I think that's all for now. As always read, review, and enjoy. **


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